Quotes About Dead Birds

#1. Hansel and Gretel had breadcrumbs, she had plastic spiders. Worst-case scenario, she could find her way back by following the trail of dead birds that had choked on them.

Jeff Strand

#2. 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!

Marie Corelli

#3. Okay. Sometimes the truth just lands at your feet in a lump, like a big, dead bird falling out of the sky. No warning...I stand there under the branches of the Honesty Tree. More dead birds of truth fall down all around me.

Gayle Friesen

#4. Frost in January minus 20 for a week. Dead birds frozen on the branch - they fall with the first thaw like ripe fruit - death-ripened. We shall all end like them - just a stain in the snow.

Lawrence Durrell

#5. My father, whose work I adore ... was down working on little things of grass and dead birds. Well, that didn't interest me. As an 8-year-old kid, I wanted knights in armor and so forth.

Jamie Wyeth

#6. Redford had read somewhere that cats brought their owners dead birds, rodents, and their own toys because they were trying to teach the stupid humans how to hunt, like they did with their own kittens. From the amount of toys Knievel had brought to him, the cat thought he was absolutely useless.

Robin Saxon

#7. Dead birds don't fall out of their nests.

Winston Churchill

#8. And, having killed him (Abhimanyu), your people danced round his dead body like savage hunters exulting over their prey. All good men in the army were grieved and tears rolled from their eyes. Even the birds of prey, that circled overhead making noises seemed to cry 'Not thus! Not thus!

C.Rajagopalachari

#9. Grief is a wound that needs attention in order to heal. We can have pancakes.

Sara Levine

#10. I left them there for the flies and the birds and the sun and the wind. In the silence outside the Tour du Silence, I left them. Where the faceless dead faced the sky, I left them there at the center of the world.

Rick Yancey

#11. We Anhedonians have adapted to long periods between good news. Our national animal is the hope camel. We have no national bird. All the birds are dead.

Colson Whitehead

#12. Time. In another time. Either before or after. They were not stars,
but fires. They were the souls of birds. They were entries into the
vast fire. They were the eyes of the dead. And in the darkness they
were imprisoned by them.

Peter Ackroyd

#13. Life is supposed to be fast, not slow. Spirits fly when worms are crawling; birds sing when the dead are moaning.

Robin Sacredfire

#14. Charlotte Corday walked alone Paris birds sang sugar calls Charlotte walked down lanes of stone through the haze of perfume stalls Charlotte smelt the dead's gangrene Heard the singing guillotine

Peter Weiss

#15. Birds prefer trees with dead branches,' said Caravaggio. 'They have complete vistas from where they perch. They can take off in any direction.

Michael Ondaatje

#16. The fox when it sees a flock of herons or magpies or birds of that kind, suddenly flings himself on the ground with his mouth open to look as he were dead; and these birds want to peck at his tongue, and he bites off their heads.

Leonardo Da Vinci

#17. Here is a book so dull that a whirling dervish could read himself to sleep with it. If you were to recite even a single page in the open air, birds would fall out of the sky and dogs drop dead.

Clive James

#18. I knew the legends of the birds. Seagulls were the souls of dead soldiers. Owls were the souls of women. Doves were the recently departed souls of unmarried girls.
Was there a bird for the souls of people like me?

Ruta Sepetys

#19. ...a murder of crows gormandized until they were satiated.

Rex Curry

#20. And on it flows. I long to lie down quietly by the banks of a blue lake and die ... and when I'm dead for my body to be consumed by birds and beasts, leaving only the bone of my brow for Xu ... like Alexander, loyal to an everlasting love.

Qiu Miaojin

#21. Where do they go when they die? We hear of the elephant graveyards, where the elephants go to die, but how much more curious it is that birds are not falling out of the sky all the time, on our heads, at our feet, dying and falling and flopping to the ground. I rarely see a dead bird on the ground.

Sophy Burnham

#22. But when I breath with the birds, The spirit of wrath becomes the spirit of blessings, And the dead begin from their dark to sing in my sleep.

Theodore Roethke

#23. Dead voices, lost sounds, forgotten noises, vibrations lockstepping into the abyss and now too distant ever to be recaptured! ... What sort of arrows would be able to transfix such birds?

Villiers De L'Isle-Adam

#24. Half the people I know have dead animals in their freezers: reptiles, birds, mammals. Is that normal?

David Sedaris

#25. So many birds sitting around, on a dead wire, a bare branch, a cold ground, a drifting seashore; never realizing the glory in their wings and where it can take them, nor the envy as we look on them.

Anthony Liccione

#26. What do the stars believe in, Zainab? Where do the dead horses go, what do the birds worship, and what do the rivers live for?

Rawi Hage

#27. The days carry the living along; the dead are left behind. It was disconcerting to discover how everything went on without Papa. The sun came up and went down, the roses bloomed, the birds sang, the stars wheeled overhead exactly as they had before

Juliet Waldron

#28. Say that the berries on a tree fermented / say that some birds ate them got drunk demented / couldn't fly straight flew straight into instead / wall of an office block and fell down dead / down on the pavement people undeterred / stepping over the mound of broken bird

Ali Smith

#29. Rows of books around me stand,
Fence me in on either hand;
Through that forest of dead words
I would hunt the living birds
So I write these lines for you
Who have felt the death-wish too,
All the wires are cut, my friends
Live beyond the severed ends.

Louis MacNeice

#30. Pass not beneath, O Caravan, or pass not singing. Have you heard
That silence where the birds are dead yet something pipeth like a bird?

James Elroy Flecker

#31. Lighter things will happen to you, birds will steal your husband's sandwich on the beach, and your child will still be dead, and your husband's shock will still be funny.

Elizabeth McCracken

#32. The poetry of earth is never dead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide I cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.

John Keats

#33. Sirrah, your Father's dead: And what will you do now? How will you live?
Son: As birds do, mother.
L. Macd: What with worms and flies?
Son: With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

William Shakespeare

#34. So sing, you birds
for the fever is about to rise
and the empty stalemate is over
let the colors bleed back into you
and let the dead be buried for another year.
from let the colors bleed

K.R. Albers

#35. And now the birds were singing overhead, and there was a soft rustling in the undergrowth, and all the sounds of the forest that showed that life was still being lived blended with the souls of the dead in a woodland requiem.
The whole forest now sang for Granny Weatherwax.

Terry Pratchett

#36. Boys flying kites haul in their white winged birds; You can't do that way when you're flying words. Careful with fire, is good advice we know Careful with words, is ten times doubly so. Thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead; But God Himself can't kill them when they're said.

Will Carleton

#37. I don't say goodbye very easily, Anna. Not gracefully or prettily.Goodbye tears your heart out and leaves it a feast for carrion birds who happen by.

Patricia Briggs

#38. In order to weep, I had descended to the realm of the dead themselves, to their secret chambers, led by the invisible but soft hands of birds down stairways which were folded up again as I advanced. I displayed my grief in the friendly fields of death, far from men: within myself.

Jean Genet

#39. They used to pour millet on graves or poppy seeds To feed the dead who would come disguised as birds. I put this book here for you, who once lived So that you should visit us no more.

Czeslaw Milosz