The more often we see the things around us - even the beautiful and wonderful things - the more they become invisible to us. That is why we often take for granted the beauty of this world: the flowers, the trees, the birds, the clouds - even those we love. Because we see things so often, we see them less and less.
If I had to choose, I would rather have birds than airplanes.
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the West wind, and daffodils.
Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom. How do they learn it? They fall and falling, they're given wings.
The birds are silent in the woods. Just wait: soon enough You will be quiet too
All I know of birds to this date is that sparrows are the ones that are not pigeons.
Wherever life is, its main objective is to keep going, and it always wins. And nature? It's all built into nature. Survivability, life perpetuating. And that means there have to be babies. Baby everything! Baby birds, baby human beings, baby ants. You name it. There have to be babies, and what has to happen for there to be babies? Okay, birds and bees. What has to happen for that to happen? It's all intertwined, and it's all nature, and the left has come along and tried to monkey with it by politicizing as much of it as they can for whatever just really convoluted reasons.
If you want to see birds, you must have birds in your heart.
I believe in you and me. I'm like Albert Schweitzer and Bertrand Russell and Albert Einstein in that I have a respect for life -- in any form. I believe in nature, in the birds, the sea, the sky, in everything I can see or that there is real evidence for. If these things are what you mean by God, then I believe in God. But I don't believe in a personal God to whom I look for comfort or for a natural on the next roll of the dice.
A good writer must be like the birds of a dark forest; you can't see them, but you can hear their mysterious and wise voices!
I was a beach boy, and I believe I learned my songs from the birds of the Brazilian forest.
Birds sing after a storm. Why shouldn't we?
There is a certain standard of grace and beauty which consists in a certain relation between our nature, such as it is, weak or strong, and the thing which pleases us. Whatever is formed according to this standard pleases us, be it house, song, discourse, verse, prose, woman, birds, rivers, trees, room, dress, and so on. Whatever is not made according to this standard displeases those who have good taste.
Temptations, of course, cannot be avoided, but because we cannot prevent the birds from flying over our heads, there is no need that we should let them nest in our hair.
I want to sing like the birds sing, not worrying about who hears or what they think.
Feminism is not a fad. It's not like Angry Birds. Although it does involve a lot of angry birds. Bad example.
A fine morning's killing, ay! All their necks wrung - all dead birds! Once they could fly - fly and swim! Fly and swim! All dead now - and sold cheap in the open market!
Butterflies may be better indicators of the health of our environment than birds.
What birds can have their bills more peculiarly formed than the ibis, the spoonbill, and the heron?
I cannot sing the old songs Though well I know the tune, Familiar as a cradle-song With sleep-compelling croon; Yet though I'm filled with music, As choirs of summer birds, I cannot sing the old songs-- I do not know the words.