Nightingale Quotes

“Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!”
― John Keats

“Great people will always be mocked by those who feel smaller than them. A lion does not flinch at laughter coming from a hyena. A gorilla does not budge from a banana thrown at it by a monkey.
A nightingale does not stop singing its beautiful song at the intrusion of an annoying woodpecker. Whenever you should doubt your self-worth, remember the lotus flower. Even though it plunges to life from beneath the mud,
it does not allow the dirt that surrounds it to affect its growth or beauty.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“There is no competition of sounds between a nightingale and a violin.”
― Dejan Stojanovic

“A lion does not flinch at laughter coming from a hyena. A gorilla does not budge from a banana thrown at it by a monkey. A nightingale does not stop singing its beautiful song at the intrusion of an annoying woodpecker.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“It is very normal for one ugly weed to not want to stand alone.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“The moon embalms me with her love and she kisses me good night. The nightingale sings her song of love when I take rest in the arms of darkness in the night!”
― Avijeet Das

“Electra, grieving for death, for her father, as a nightingale grieving always.”
― Sophocles, Electra

“I have become intoxicated again.
You are such a potent wine, my friend.
To escape your withdrawal effects,
tomorrow I will drink in excess.

Alas, why make me love?
I was aware, conscious, and sensible before.
I am ill by cause of this illusion.
The devil plays tricks on me more and more.

I was a harp you immaculately plucked at will.
Your score, the nightingale song within
notes composed to imprison and bear me wings.
Oh, if only they could hear how it sings!

I am now beyond parched.
My strings left untouched.
You are no longer an oasis, my friend,
but a mirage soon coming to an end.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“Neruda had his first dream,
First meeting with the Moon and the Sun
In sunny La Mancha, hiding in his heart,
Where he learned how to sing like a nightingale.”
― Dejan Stojanovic

“The wood echoed to the hoarse ringing of other saws; somewhere, very far away, a nightingale was trying out its voice, and at longer intervals a blackbird whistled as if blowing dust out of a flute. Even the engine steam rose into the sky warbling like milk boiling up on a nursery alchohol stove.”
― Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago

“A romantic," said Nightingale much, much later. "The most dangerous people on Earth.”
― Ben Aaronovitch

“From now on, she was Juliette Gervaise, code name the Nightingale.”
― Kristin Hannah, The Nightingale

“To her [Florence Nightingale] chiefly I owed the awakening to the fact that sanitation is the supreme goal of medicine its foundation and its crown.”
― Elizabeth Blackwell, Pioneer Work In Opening The Medical Profession To Women

“He remembered an old tale which his father was fond of telling him—the story of Eos Amherawdur (the Emperor Nightingale). Very long ago, the story began, the greatest and the finest court in all the realms of faery was the court of the Emperor Eos, who was above all the kings of the Tylwydd Têg, as the Emperor of Rome is head over all the kings of the earth. So that even Gwyn ap Nudd, whom they now call lord over all the fair folk of the Isle of Britain, was but the man of Eos, and no splendour such as his was ever seen in all the regions of enchantment and faery. Eos had his court in a vast forest, called Wentwood, in the deepest depths of the green-wood between Caerwent and Caermaen, which is also called the City of the Legions; though some men say that we should rather name it the city of the Waterfloods. Here, then, was the Palace of Eos, built of the finest stones after the Roman manner, and within it were the most glorious chambers that eye has ever seen, and there was no end to the number of them, for they could not be counted. For the stones of the palace being immortal, they were at the pleasure of the Emperor. If he had willed, all the hosts of the world could stand in his greatest hall, and, if he had willed, not so much as an ant could enter into it, since it could not be discerned. But on common days they spread the Emperor's banquet in nine great halls, each nine times larger than any that are in the lands of the men of Normandi. And Sir Caw was the seneschal who marshalled the feast; and if you would count those under his command—go, count the drops of water that are in the Uske River. But if you would learn the splendour of this castle it is an easy matter, for Eos hung the walls of it with Dawn and Sunset. He lit it with the sun and moon. There was a well in it called Ocean. And nine churches of twisted boughs were set apart in which Eos might hear Mass; and when his clerks sang before him all the jewels rose shining out of the earth, and all the stars bent shining down from heaven, so enchanting was the melody. Then was great bliss in all the regions of the fair folk. But Eos was grieved because mortal ears could not hear nor comprehend the enchantment of their song. What, then, did he do? Nothing less than this. He divested himself of all his glories and of his kingdom, and transformed himself into the shape of a little brown bird, and went flying about the woods, desirous of teaching men the sweetness of the faery melody. And all the other birds said: "This is a contemptible stranger." The eagle found him not even worthy to be a prey; the raven and the magpie called him simpleton; the pheasant asked where he had got that ugly livery; the lark wondered why he hid himself in the darkness of the wood; the peacock would not suffer his name to be uttered. In short never was anyone so despised as was Eos by all the chorus of the birds. But wise men heard that song from the faery regions and listened all night beneath the bough, and these were the first who were bards in the Isle of Britain.”
― Arthur Machen, The Secret Glory

“Her song was so beautiful that it could take people back to all the things they wished they had done, and all the things they wished they could be.”
― Erica Bauermeister, The Scent Keeper

“She is a one in a billion girl. When you meet her, you will feel a serene breeze engulf you. When she smiles at you, the world pauses for a while. When she speaks, it feels like the nightingales are singing. She is extraordinarily pretty. She is beautiful as the rose flower. She is the fragrance of a million jasmine flowers. She is the sensitivity of the dew drops. She is the innocence of the blooming llily, ily. She is the calm of the sylvan lake. She is the beautiful light of the candle flame. She is the wildness of the Kadupal flower. She is the magic of the full moon night! When you meet her, you will forget all other girls that you ever met in the world. She is the prettiest girl in the whole world. She is the most amazing and wonderful girl in the whole world. She is the Poet's Muse. ”
― Avijeet Das

“Her statistics were more than a study... For her, Quetelet was the hero as scientist, and the presentation copy of his Physique Sociale is annotated by her on every page. Florence Nightingale believed—and in all the actions of her life acted upon that belief—that the administrator could only be successful if he were guided by statistical knowledge. The legislator—to say nothing of the politician—too often failed for want of this knowledge.”
― Karl Pearson, The Life, Letters and Labours of Francis Galton (Cambridge Library Collection - Darwin, Evolution and Genetics)

“When you meet her, you will feel a serene breeze engulf you. When she smiles at you, the world pauses for a while. When she speaks, it feels like the nightingale is singing. She is extraordinarily pretty. She is beautiful as the rose flower. She is the fragrance of a million jasmine flowers. She is the sensitivity of the dew drops. She is the innocence of the blooming lily. She is the calm of the sylvan lake. She is the beautiful light of the candle flame. She is the wildness of the kadupul flower. She is the magic of the full moon night! When you meet her, you will forget all other girls that you ever met in the world. She is the most amazing and wonderful girl in the whole world. She is the Poet's Muse.”
― Avijeet Das

“kevään sanansaattaja satakieli
kaipaus sen äänessä”
― Sapfo, Iltatähti, häälaulu

“Nightingales have something to sing, dogs, they find something to bark”
― P.S. Jagadeesh Kumar

“The Nightingale in Badelunda

In the green midnight at the nightingale’s northern limit. Heavy leaves hang in trance, the deaf cars race toward the neon line. The nightingale’s voice rises without wavering to the side, it is as penetrating as a cockcrow, but beautiful and free of vanity. I was in prison and it visited me. I was sick and it visited me. I didn’t notice it then, but I do now. Time streams down from the sun and the moon and into all the tick-tock-thankful clocks. But right here there is no time. Only the nightingale’s voice, the raw resonant notes that whet the night sky’s gleaming scythe.”
― Tomas Tranströmer, For the Living and the Dead

“Through pity, then, I can't resist
delivering a song of bliss
when witnessing the painful trace
that love leaves in a young girl's face.
I try to teach them, through my song,
love of that kind will not last long,
because, just as my song relents,
love rarely stays when it descends
on children's hearts, but meets its death
the way that warmth fades on our breath.”
― Simon Armitage, The Owl and the Nightingale

“He varied his theme, embellished it with vocalizations , fell in love with his voice, became this distraught, intoxicated and panting singer, whom one listens to with the unbearable desire to see him sing.-Colette, Les Vrilles de la Vigne”
― Colette

“ודע לך שאתה מצאצאי הגזע, שהוא לפעמים כזיקית ולפעמים כזמיר. והזיקית – למען תחיה – מחליפה צבעיה לפי חליפות הזמנים והנסיבות; והזמיר – למען יחיה – שר שיר יחיד כמשוגע איש הרוח. ומשני מיני הטבָעים האלה עשויה גם נפשך. וראה שתהיה זיקית בצאתך וזמיר בביתך. אשרי מי שכתלי ביתו איתנים.”
― Benjamin Tammuz, הזיקית והזמיר

“As darkness weaves its spell, a voice emerges, pure and bright, dissolving the night's embrace.”
― David Passarelli, Mountain poems: Musings on stone, forest, and snow

“Every moment, the sun bursts forth,
Every moment, the moon bathes the night,
for the mist melts in the longing.
Every moment, roses are opening,
and nightingales fly wild,
for this is the fragrance that drowns the earth;
the scent of love, the euphoria on earth.
The musical breeze, parrots hear everywhere,
The harp cries, and melodies fill the air.
This is the pulse of love, a burning heart feels.
Is this the light I have sought all along?”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee