Quotes About Partridges

#1. We want what we can't have, even when we have no right to demand it.

Brandon Sanderson

#2. Praise the LORD! For it is good to sing praises to our God; For it is pleasant, and praise is beautiful.

John F. MacArthur Jr.

#3. Isn't it god's own image? tramping his thirty miles a day
after partridges, or a little rubber ball?
wouldn't you like to be like that, well off, and quite the thing?

D.H. Lawrence

#4. Concussion? How the hell can they tell? They're *football* players, for chrissakes!

Dennis Miller

#5. A large proportion of mankind, like pigeons and partridges, on reaching maturity, having passed through a period of playfulness or promiscuity, establish what they hope and expect will be a permanent and fertile mating relationship. This we call marriage.

C.D. Darlington

#6. A fig for partridges and quails, ye dainties I know nothing of ye; But on the highest mount in Wales Would choose in peace to drink my coffee.

Jonathan Swift

#7. That to begin with; let respect be the foundation, affection the first floor, love the superstructure.

Charlotte Bronte

#8. It was a grey September day, with the blue and copper butterflies flitting in the after-grass, the partridges calling like crickets, the blackberries colouring, and the hazel nuts still nursing their tasteless little kernels in the cradles of cotton wool.

T.H. White

#9. Apparently I'm in rehab for intensive partying soooo I'm just going to lay pretty low for a bit and maybe get some frozen yogurt.

Ireland Baldwin

#10. What is a country without rabbits and partridges? They are among the most simple and indigenous animal products; ancient and venerable families known to antiquity as to modern times; of the very hue and substance of Nature, nearest allied to leaves and to the ground.

Henry David Thoreau

#11. Neither had Watt of the Steam engine a heroic origin, any kindred with the princes of this world. The princes of this world were shooting their partridges ... While this man with blackened fingers, with grim brow, was searching out, in his workshop, the Fire-secret.

Thomas Carlyle

#12. Excuse my wandering.
How can one be orderly with this?
It's like counting leaves in a garden,
along with the song-notes of partridges,
and crows.
Sometimes organization
and computation become absurd.

Rumi