Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Hatches. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Hatches Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including Philip Dodd,John Keats,Kahlil Gibran,John Milton,Robert Macfarlane for you to enjoy and share.
Remember, this is the time of the cockatrice. It has hatched from its egg. So who now dares say what will be?
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft; and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
NIGHTINGALE The nightingale does not make his nest in a cage lest slavery be the lot of its chicks. BW-ST-122
And as an ev'ning dragon came, Assailant on the perched roosts And nests in order rang'd Of tame villatic fowl.
These words: migrant birds, arriving from distant places with story and metaphor caught in their feathers;
edge of the box. "Hungry, are you?" laughed Zack as the bird pecked the feeds. "Eat some more, pretty little things!" said Clare as the others flew one by one to Zack. It was a fine and cold morning, and feeding the birds is the beginning of a wonderful day for Zack and Clare. When
Rooster, maybe well crows, but the eggs still bears the chicken.
the egrets lifting out of the marxh carrying the light on their backs.
Going to a dark bed there was a square round Sinbad the Sailor roc's auk's egg in the night of the bed of all the auks of the rocs of Darkinbad the Brightdayler.
What need for feathers now? What need to confirm their loss? While the womb-red sky swelled with the promise of tomorrow, and he rode the warm, crimson currents, skimming, wheeling and gliding.
Well, lucky you, you've landed in the right nest. Come, come, follow me, young hatchling.
-Keeper of the chronicles (Alister)
Some people are like egg. The more you apply heat to them, the harder they become. To hatch them, just use a gentle heat, and to keep them alive, just keep them cool.
Feathers needed, swan preferred.
Caught one a live by poreing a great quantity of Water in his hole.
The hedges are spruting like chicks from the eggs when they are newly hatched or as the vulgar says clacked.
chooks. You cannot go away and leave
Soon fifty-six Shield Bugs were lined up, crouching like coiled springs on the gunnels of the chicken boat.
The clouds, - the only birds that never sleep.
The materials for the nest must be collected and woven strand by strand ... Such a birdy method may at first seem absurd to the forward-thinking nest maker, but soon it will be found that the pleasures of the project are not derived from efficiency.
From fear of the unknown, both horns and wings have grown.
In the tide pool I was riveted by fat pink sea stars sitting like satisfied gangsters and seemingly unconcerned by their exposure; gulls would peck at them but the sea stars simply grew replacement limbs.
Butterflys are free
Rooster/Pisces: Likes shiny things.
I'm a cage, in search of a bird.
Though what bird in the best of circumstances does not look a little stricken?
It is a foule byrd that fyleth his owne nest.
What are those?" Nico called.
I've never counted my chickens before they've hatched.
Last night, the stars on the water were trap doors. The crows
with their charred wings are complaining to a hawk. It's time
to pack up the sunsets the dawns and move on.
Pel-i-cans, their beaks hold more than their bellies can.
The smallest worm will turn being trodden on,
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
perch on the wall
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!
What need," Dunstan wondered, "could someone have of the storm-filled eggshells?
A secret spoken finds wings.
CHAPTER 6 Dovewing
Chestnut brown canary, ruby throated sparrow, sing a song, don't be long, thrill me to the marrow.
would flower; and where birds came - and pecked
The nest may be constructed, so far as the sticks go, by the male bird; but only the hen can line it with moss and down!
Dragons. A sky full of dragons.
Either birds or bats flapped up and into the night as the gates rolled back into position. My money was on bats. Little blingy ones, carrying tiny Louis Vuitton clutches.
Gaze not on swans, in whose soft breast,
A full-hatched beauty seems to nest
Nor snow, which falling from the sky
Hovers in its virginity.
Flamingo necks, peacock brains, pike livers, lark tongues, sow's udders, elephant trunks and ears extravagantly frilled with parsley.
Hagrid, who had told them last lesson that they had finished with unicorns, was waiting for them outside his cabin with a fresh supply of open crates at his feet. Harry's heart sank at the sight of the crates - surely not another skrewt hatching? - but
They can fly and they howl, they slaughter depression and headaches, they daydream like gangbanging daffodils, orchids and cherry blossoms grasping mauve toffee clouds, they breastfeed laughter.
Well, that egg has hatched. Let's see what color the chick
A flock of small birds took off from the wall of the fort. They moved like a length of dark silk caught by the breeze as they headed out to sea. Behind them, the sky was the colour of forget-me-nots. The sun blazed.
I am a cage, in search of a bird.
Catching my breath. I watch them go. I watch them disregard gravity, the ground, and the distance between us. And though an old feeling, one of the wings, haunts my shoulder blades, I stay pinned to the window. I've learned that I cannot go with them
The perch swallows the grub-worm, the pickerel swallows the perch, and the fisherman swallows the pickerel; and so all the chinks in the scale of being are filled.
Sun-struck,
stuck in mid tropic strut, it sometimes stands
as if considering how to cool avian plastic,
dive into the mown lagoon of lawn;
how take flight on dayglow flap-
doodle wings, no matter
if it is ball-bald going nowhere fast.
a cloud of black-and-orange butterflies for the Mullendores.
THE REPTILE ROOM
Alice finds a packet of scotch eggs in someone's bag. And then there's nothing more to do other then to put on as many clothes as we can fit into, and wait: for the troops, sleep, or asphyxiation from pete's toxic egg farts, which ever comes first.
Eggs is a kind of a plucky, brave 11-year-old boy who thinks he is a boxtroll. And he's kind of one of these mythological feral children who are raised in isolation of humanity and, by virtue of that, have a deeper connection to humanity because they've been raised away from the poisons of society.
There was a rustle of chirruping sparrows in the green lacquer leaves of the ivy, and the blue cloud-shadows chased themselves across the grass like swallows.
Let all the poison that lurks in the mud, hatch out.
Let all the poisons that lurk in the mud, Hatch out.
I prefer empty cages, Sabina, until I find a unique bird I once saw in my dreams.
And from the phlox and mignonette Rich attars drift on every hand; And when star-vestured twilight comes The pale moths weave a saraband. And crickets in the aisles of grass With their clear fifing pierce the hush; And somewhere you many hear anear The passion of the hermit thrush.
In the drowsy dark cave of the mind dreams build their nest with fragments dropped from day's caravan.
Eggs: Could go to my grave quite happily without ever seeing another one.
I think of no news to tell you. It is a serene summer day here, all above the snow. The hens steal their nests, and I steal theireggs still, as formerly. This is what I do with the hands. Ah, labor,
it is a divine institution, and conversation with many men and hens.
It is a foul bird that filleth his own nest.
You release these things, and if they fly then you have more.
Every bird which flies has the thread of the infinite in its claw. Germination includes the hatching of a meteor and the tap of a swallow's bill breaking the egg, and it leads forward the birth of an earth-worm and the advent of Socrates.
The patient bird breakfasts on the
juiciest worm.
The egg cackles and lays the chicken.
If you count your eggs now, you'll be disappointed by the dragons that come out!
Sent as a present from Annam
A red cockatoo.
Coloured like the peach-tree blossom,
Speaking with the speech of men.
And they did to it what is always done
To the learned and eloquent.
They took a cage with stout bars
And shut it up inside.
Caged birds accept each other, but flight is what they long for.
Toads, beetles, bats.
Birds are flying over the garden. What are you doing inside the house? Join them! If you can't join them, at least open the window and greet them!
To the broody hen the notion would probably seem monstrous that there should be a creature in the world to whom a nestful of eggs was not utterly fascinating and precious and never-to-be-too-much-sat-upon object which it is to her.
Here is the door of my mom's house, well-remembered childhood portal. Here is the yard, and a set of wires that runs from the house to a wooden pole, and some fat birds sitting together on the wires, five of them lined up like beads on an abacus.
The eggs taste like clouds. Like spun gold.
Many count their chickens before they are hatched; and where they expect bacon, meet with broken bones.
Each egg hatched a different way, but a crack at the right time speeded things up.
They've built their nests in the chimneys of my heart: those swallows that you lost.
On the fences the shiny blackbirds with red epaulets clicked their dry call. The meadowlarks sang like water, and the wild doves, concealed among the bursting leaves of the oaks, made a sound of restrained grieving.
Ce'Nedra returned, frowning and a little angry. "They won't give me their eggs, Lady Polgara," she complained. "They're sitting one them." "You have to reach under them and take the eggs, dear." "Won't that make them angry?" "Are you afraid of a chicken?
Feather by feather the goose is plucked.
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.
The eggs were extremely interesting, as was the bacon,and the hydrangeas outside the window were absolutely fascinating. hydrangeas.who would have imagined?
A bird may love a fish but where would they build a home together?
Listen, sweet Dove, unto my song, And spread thy golden wings in me; Hatching my tender heart so long, Till it get wing, and flie away with Thee.
Sure as eggs is eggs," he said. "As the turkey-farmer said when he hatched his first turtle.
Don't count your owls before they are delivered.
Let geese
Gabble and hiss, but heroes seek release
From dusty bondage into luminous air.
The critic's symbol should be the tumble-bug: he deposits his egg in somebody else's dung, otherwise he could not hatch it.
Two hundred years ago an old Dutch voyager likened its shape to that of a shoemaker's last. And in this same last or shoe, that old woman of the nursery tale with the swarming brood, might very comfortably be lodged, she and all her progeny.
worms and bugs. They climbed up the
O frost bitten blossoms, That are unfolding your wings From out the envious black branches. Bloom quickly and make much of the sunshine. The twigs conspire against you! Hear hem! They hold you from behind.
Even the caged bird flys out when someone opens the door for it
It all began with a bucket of eggs.
Blissful Islands
A dragonfly arrives and leaves like a change of mind.
At a very early stage of the novel's development I get this urge to collect bits of straw and fluff, and to eat pebbles. Nobody will ever discover how clearly a bird visualizes, or if it visualizes at all, the future nest and the eggs in it.
If the skies fall, one may hope to catch larks.
The birds had been given everything they needed. A home in the thin, pure air: a moment of weightlessness, a reprieve from the gravity of life