“I am ashamed of anyone who has eyes and still can't see.”
“We are the owls of the weather chaw.
We take it blistering,
We take it all.
Roiling boiling gusts,
We're the owls with the guts.
For blizzards our gizzards
Dr tremble with joy.
An ice storm, a gale, how we love blinding hail.
We fly forward and backward,
Upside down and flat.
Do we flinch? Do we wail?
Do we skitter or scutter?
No, we yarp one more pellet
And fly straight for the gutter!
Do we screech? Do we scream?
Do we gurgle? Take pause?
Not on your life!
For we are the best
Of the best of the chaws!”
“Night is done, gone the moon, gone the stars
From the skies.
Fades the black of night
Comes the morn with rosy light.
Fold your wings, go to sleep,
Rest your gizzards, Safe you'll be for the day.
Glaux is nigh.
Far away is first black,
But it shall seep back
Over field
Over flower
In the twilight hour.
We are home in our tree.
We are owls, we are free.
As we go, this we know
Glaux is nigh.”
“I am ashamed of anyone who has eyes and still cannot see. (Mrs. Plithiver)”
“What is a fleecy as a cloud,
As majestic and shimmering as the breaking dawn,
As gorgeous as the sun the sun is strong?
Why, it's ME!
Twilight, the Great Gray,
Tiger of the sky ---
Light of the Night, Most beautiful,
An avian delight.
I beam ---
I gleam ---
I'm a livin' flying dream.
Watch me roll off this cloud and pop on back.
This is flying.
I ain't no hack.”
“We're going to bash them birds,
Them rat-feathered birds.
Them bad-butt owls ain't never heard
'Bout Gylfie, Soren, Dig, and Twilight
Just let them get to feel my bite
Their li'l ole gizzards gonna turn to pus
And our feathers hardly mussed.
Oh, me. Oh, my. They gonna cry.
One look at Twilight,
They know they're gonna die.
I see fear in their eyes
And that ain't all.
They know that Twilight's got the gall.
Gizzard with gall that makes him great
And every bad owl gonna turn to bait.”
“Give me a hot coal glowing bright red,
Give me an ember sizzling with heat,
These are the jewels made from my beak.
We fly between the flames and never get singed
We plunge through the smoke and never cringe.
The secrets of fire, its strange winds, its rages,
We know it all as it rampages
Through forests, through canyons,
Up hillsides and down.
We track it.
We'll find it.
Take coals by the pound.
We'll yarp in the heart of the hottest flame
Then bring back its coals an make them tame.
For we are the colliers brave and beyond all
We are the owls of the colliering chaw!”
“Hush little owl,
You're with Twi.
I got the moves to get you by.
Big bad crows.
St. Aggie's scamps
Ain't got nothin to show the champ.
I'll pop a spiral
With a twist,
Do a three-sixty
And scatter mist----”
“He didn't know what he wanted. He only knew what he didn't want.”
“Far away if first black,
But it shall be back
Over field
Over flower
In the twilight hour.
We are home in our tree.
We are owls, we are free.
As we go, this we know
Glaux is nigh.”
“Indeed, nobility is not always found in the flash of battle claws or flying through the embered wakes of firestorms, or even in making strong the weak, mending the broken, vanquishing the proud, or making powerless those who abuse the frail.” Soren’s gizzard grew quiet as Boron spoke. “It is also found in the resolute heart, the gizzard that can withstand the temptations of false dreams, the mind that has the imagination to comprehend another’s pain,”
“—Night is Done—
Night is done, gone the moon, gone the stars
From the skies.
Fades the black of the night
Comes the morn with rosy light.
Fold your wings, go to sleep,
Rest your gizzards,
Safe you’ll be for the day.
Glaux is nigh.
Far away is First Black,
But it shall seep back
Over field
Over flower
In twilight hour.
We are home in our tree.
We are owls, we are free.
As we go, this we know
Glaux is nigh.”
“Soren had been at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree for almost a month,”
“congregations of owls seemed to be below, along with a hollow that was called a kitchen, from”
“Maybe not this year or the next but one day they'd end up married. In this lifetime and every one after it. Just knowing that I'd get to watch them find each other and fall in love in every life made me smile.”
“Fear is a good thing. It mean you're paying attention.”
“In the distance, the battle rages still, moved on to other avenues and other victims. Hock Seng limps down the street. Bodies lie everywhere. He reaches an intersection and hobbles across, too tired to care about the risk of being caught in the open. At the far side, a man lies slumped against a wall, his bicycle lying beside him. Blood soaks his lap.
Hock Seng picks up the bicycle.
"That's mine," the man says.
Hock Seng pauses, studying the man. The man can barely keep his eyes open, yet still he clings to normalcy, to the idea that something like a bicycle can be owned. Hock Seng turns and wheels the bicycle down off the sidewalk. The man calls out again, "That's mine." But he doesn't stand and he doesn't do anything to stop Hock Seng as he swings a leg over the frame and sets his feet on the pedals.
If the man complains again, Hock Seng doesn't hear it.”
“As a bio major, I figured "free will" meant chemicals in your brain telling you what to do, the molecules bouncing around in a way that felt like choosing but was actually the dance of little gears--neurons and hormones bubbling up into decisions like clockwork. You don't use your body; it uses you.”
“It was almost cute, I thought, except I don't do cute. But I wanted to do her.”
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