Relaxing Migratory Birds quotations

Migratory birds quote God gives every bird a worm, but does not throw it into the nest.
God gives every bird a worm, but does not throw it into the nest.
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We must force the government to stop the bird migration.

We must shoot all birds, field all our men and troops... and force migratory birds to stay where they are.

Intuitions are like migratory birds, they come without a map without a reason.

Migratory birds quote Like a bird singing in the rain, the grateful memories survive in time of sorrow
Like a bird singing in the rain, the grateful memories survive in time of sorrow.

Clever man is a chicken; it can fly, but a little. Genius, on the other hand, is a migratory bird; it can fly at high altitudes until He disappears on the horizon!

The only creative power I know is that of what might roughly be called 'love';

not of course a sentimental love: a far more impersonal and less individual emotion. I sometimes think that migratory birds may have it for each other. They fly in the same direction, and have never been seen to interfere with each other's flights.


'Ornithologists concluded that migratory birds take hundreds of naps as they fly; they also practice unilateral eye closure, in which one eye closes, thereby permitting half the brain to sleep.' Is this what happens when photographers close one eye to look through a viewfinder? If so, they might be operating with only half a brain. Perhaps that explains.

Migratory birds quote A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.
A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.

New York is part of the natural world.

I love the city, I love the country, and for the same reasons. The city is part of the country. When I had an apartment on East Forty-Eighth Street, my backyard during the migratory season yielded more birds than I ever saw in Maine.

I can tell that in Refuge the question that was burning in me was, how do we find refuge in change? Everything around me that was familiar had been turned inside out with my mother's diagnosis of ovarian cancer and with the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge being flooded.

O trees of life, O when are you wintering?We are not unified.

We have no instinctslike those of migratory birds. Useless, and late,we force ourselves, suddenly, onto the wind,and fall down to an indifferent lake.We realise flowering and fading together.And somewhere lions still roam. Never knowing,as long as they have their splendour, of any weakness.