The Blackbird Quotes

#1. King Dan sat on his stallion fierce Swords did slice and spears did pierce But in a tree upon the field Perched a small, keen-eyed blackbird And the blackbird did not sing No, the blackbird did not sing Miri's

Shannon Hale

#2. How sweet the harmonies of the afternoon!
The Blackbird sings along the sunny breeze
His ancient song of leaves, and summer boon;
Rich breath of hayfields streams thro' whispering trees;
And birds of morning trim their bustling wings,
And listen fondly
while the Blackbird sings.

Frederick Tennyson

#3. Because of her, he had learned to look for the birds - the darting flight of wild canaries (yellow sun on yellow wings), the chesty preening of redbirds and bluebirds, the blackbird with the red-tipped wings like startling epaulets.

Terry Kay

#4. You can borrow my Blackbird, if you like,' said Ben. This was his new fountain pen, which troubled him. It was guaranteed not to leak but writers and schoolchildren knew better. Ben wished to be relieved of the responsibility of the Blackbird, without losing his own dignity.

Penelope Fitzgerald

#5. I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms; But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.

Wallace Stevens

#6. And let them pass, as they will too soon,
With the bean-flowers' boon,
And the blackbird's tune,
And May, and June!

Robert Browning

#7. The river is moving. The blackbird must be flying.

Wallace Stevens

#8. The nightingale has a lyre of gold, The lark's is a clarion call, And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute, But I love him best of all. For his song is all the joy of life, And we in the mad spring weather, We two have listened till he sang Our hearts and lips together.

William Ernest Henley

#9. When strawberries go begging, and the sleek
Blue plums lie open to the blackbird's beak,
We shall live well
we shall live very well.

Elinor Wylie

#10. I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendos
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

Wallace Stevens

#11. Why do I write historical fiction? Johnny Tremain, The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Island of the Blue Dolphins-that's why. I'll never forget how it felt to read those books. I want to write books with the same power to transport readers into another time and place.

Jennifer Armstrong

#12. Sparrows and pigeons and a blackbird were celebrating the morning in the courtyard.

Ruth Downie

#13. She snatched at the dream that had comforted her for so long. It was faded and thin, like a letter too often read.

Elizabeth George Speare

#14. Spring is not yet here, but the song of a solitary, pioneering blackbird when I wake, the smell of something warm and floral on the air in fleeting moments, these signs give me hope.

Tracy Rees

#15. 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

#16. Perfectly happy momma goes out into the fields. she eavesdrops on herself, in case somewhere deep inside a melody rings out or a blackbird sings, but all that she hears, is only the cancer, which saws and eats away at her.

Elfriede Jelinek

#17. O Blackbird! sing me something well: While all the neighbors shoot thee round, I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground, Where thou may'st warble, eat and dwell.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

#18. When the whistling-thrush released
A deep sweet secret on the trembling air;
Blackbird on the wing, bird of the forest shadows,
Black rose in the long ago summer,
This was your song:
It isn't time that's passing by,
It is you and I.

Ruskin Bond

#19. Hither, thither, through the sky, turtle-doves and linnets, fly! Blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch gay, hither, thither, haste away! One and all, come, help me quick! haste ye, haste ye--pick, pick, pick!

Jacob Grimm

#20. Once upon a time there was a little blackbird, pushed out of the nest, unwanted.

Amy Harmon

#21. Do not fear death, for it does not fear you. We are not weak because we are women. Instead, we are strong.

Kristy McCaffrey

#22. A blackbird doesn't change its tune to suit the times.

Marty Rubin

#23. I am a closet birdwatcher. I can identify Southern African species, but it irks me I can barely tell a jay from a blackbird in the U.K.

Wilbur Smith

#24. Accustomed like the white blackbird to the loneliness of eccentricity yet never quite reconciled to it, they found in each other's oddness a most comforting compatibility.

Elizabeth Goudge

#25. She's a blackbird sitting in a tree staring out at the world, daring the wind to come and knock her off the swaying bough.

J.A. Huss

#26. When she had fallen asleep on me, and the saw in the yard was quiet, and a blackbird was singing as the colors of things in the kitchen dimmed until nothing remained of them but lighter and darker shades of gray, I was completely happy.

Bernhard Schlink

#27. Spencer repeats, a little harsher now. I want kissing, I want mad fucking passionate kissing. The kind of kissing I've seen in all those other photos of you, the kissing that is so filled with emotion and longing and lust, I'm instantly hard. Kiss me like that, Blackbird.

J.A. Huss

#28. I started reading contemporary fiction in college or right after college. It wasn't as if I was steeped in experimental minimalism when I was twelve or something. I was reading The Witch of Blackbird Pond.

Leni Zumas

#29. Morning has broken
Like the first morning.
Blackbird has spoken
Like the first bird.

Eleanor Farjeon

#30. Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

The Beatles

#31. The devil's script sells you the heart of a blackbird.

Elliott Smith

#32. Although her book did include compelling recipes for scrapple, ox cheek, and baked calf's head and tips for the preparation of raccoon, possum, snipe, plovers, and blackbirds (for blackbird pie) and "how to broil, fricassee, stew or fry a squirrel," it was much more than just a cookbook.

Erik Larson

#33. The song of thrush and blackbird, joy that falls so gently on the ears to celebrate another day of life and living, flying free.

John McLeod