Trill Quotes

• The caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of things unknown, but longed for still, and his tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom.

  Maya Angelou

  Bird, Tunes, Hills

  Maya Angelou (2013). “Shaker, Why Don't You Sing?”, p.20, Random House

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• In the under-wood and the over-wood there is murmur and trill this day, For every bird is in lyric mood, And the wind will have its way.

  Clinton Scollard

  Inspirational, Wind, Bird

  Clinton Scollard (1916). “Ballads, Patriotic & Romantic”

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• The word trill really REALLY bugs me! Like who made that up???

  Kim Kardashian

  Bugs, Made

  Twitter post from Oct 14, 2010

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• And some days, he went on, were days of hearing every trump and trill of the universe. Some days were good for tasting and some for touching. And some days were good for all the senses at once. This day now, he nodded, smelled as if a great and nameless orchard had grown up overnight beyond the hills to fill the entire visible land with its warm freshness. The air felt like rain, but there were no clouds.

  Ray Bradbury

  Rain, Land, Clouds

  Ray Bradbury (2012). “Dandelion Wine”, p.5, HarperCollins UK

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• Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off and they are nearly always doing it.

  Frances Hodgson Burnett

  Lovely, Robins, World

  Frances Hodgson Burnett, General Press (2016). “The Secret Garden (Illustrated Edition)”, p.52, GENERAL PRESS

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• When Big Meech and everybody got indicted, hustling died. Keep it trill.

  ASAP Rocky

  Hustle, Bigs, Died

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• I sat down with my long time business partner and Rap-A-Lot CEO James Prince to review the music that we had and quickly came up with an outstanding track list.

  Bun B

  Rap, Opportunity, Long

  "Bun B Set to Release New Album 'The Epilogue' in November" by Edwin Ortiz, www.complex.com. October 5, 2013.

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• When Cynthia smiles, said young Bingo, the skies are blue; the world takes on a roseate hue; birds in the garden trill and sing, and Joy is king of everything, when Cynthia smiles. He coughed, changing gears. When Cynthia frowns - What the devil are you talking about?I'm reading you my poem. The one I wrote to Cynthia last night. I'll go on, shall I?No!No?No. I haven't had my tea.

  P. G. Wodehouse

  Kings, Reading, Night

  P. G. Wodehouse (1991). “The great sermon handicap”, James H. Heineman

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• There are so many ways of saying Hi. Hiss it, trill it, bark it, sing it, bellow it, laugh it, cough it. A simple stroll in the hallway calls for paragraphs, sentences in your head, decisions galore.

  Frank McCourt

  Simple, Laughing, Decision

  Frank McCourt (2005). “Teacher Man: A Memoir”, p.245, Simon and Schuster

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• The robin flew from his swinging spray of ivy on to the top of the wall and he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off - and they are nearly always doing it.

  Frances Hodgson Burnett

  Wall, Ivy, Lovely

  Frances Hodgson Burnett (2003). “The Secret Garden: Centennial Edition”, p.48, Penguin

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• Under the snowdrifts the blossoms are sleeping, Dreaming their dreams of sunshine and June, Down in the hush of their quiet they're keeping Trills from the throstle's wild summer-sung tune.

  Harriet Elizabeth Prescott Spofford

  Summer, Dream, Sleep

  Harriet Elizabeth Prescott Spofford (1882). “Poems”

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• The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.

  John Milton

  Summer, Retirement, Plato

  Paradise Regained bk. 4, l. 240 (1671)

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• I always liked the steel guitar. I also love the guys that play the bottleneck. But I could never do it; I never made it do what I want. So every time I would pick up the guitar, I'd shake my hand and trill it a bit. For some strange reason my ears would say to me that sounds similar to what those guys were doing. I can't pick up the guitar now without doing it. So that's how I got into making my sound. It was nothing pretty. Just trying to please myself. I heard that sound.

  B. B. King

  Guitar, Hands, Play

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• I feel my sinews slackened with the fright, and a cold sweat trills down all over my limbs, as if I were dissolving into water.

  John Dryden

  Fear, Sweat, Water

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• Who rant by note, and through the gamut rage; in songs and airs express their martial fire; combat in trills, and in a fugue expire.

  Joseph Addison

  Song, Fire, Air

  Joseph Addison (1808). “The Poetical Works of Joseph Addison: Collated with the Best Editions”, p.54

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• [Concerning the Water Ouzel, now called American Dipper:] In a general way his music is that of the streams refined and spiritualized. The deep booming notes of the falls are in it, the trills of rapids, the gurgling of margin eddies, the low whispering of level reaches, and the sweet tinkle of separate drops oozing from the ends of mosses and falling into tranquil pools.

  John Muir

  Sweet, Fall, Water

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• A thousand trills and quivering sounds In airy circles o'er us fly, Till, wafted by a gentle breeze, They faint and languish by degrees, And at a distance die.

  Joseph Addison

  Distance, Circles, Sound

  Joseph Addison (2017). “Delphi Complete Works of Joseph Addison (Illustrated)”, p.323, Delphi Classics

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• Carmen sat up when she heard a familiar trill from her computer. It was an instant message from Bee. Beezy3: Packing. Do you have my purple sock with the heart on the ankle? Carmabelle: No. Like I'd wear your socks. Carmen looked from her computer screen down to her feet. To her dismay, her socks were two faintly different shades of purple. She rotated her foot to get a view of her anklebone. Carmabelle: Ahem. Might possibly have sock.

  Ann Brashares

  Heart, Views, Two

  Ann Brashares (2012). “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants Complete Collection”, p.229, Delacorte Press

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• Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night is done. You are light and morning.

  Cesare Pavese

  Sweet, Morning, Stars

  Cesare Pavese, “In The Morning You Always Come Back”

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• I listen to the summer symphony outside my window. Truthfully, it's not a symphony at all. There's no tune, no melody, only the same notes over and over. Chirps and tweets and trills and burples. It's as if the insect orchestra is forever tuning its instruments, forever waiting for the maestro to tap his baton and bring them to order. I, for one, hope the maestro never comes. I love the music mess of it.

  Jerry Spinelli

  Music, Summer, Order

  Jerry Spinelli (2007). “Love, Stargirl”, p.74, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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• It would have been hard for Fat Charlie to say exactly when the accumulation of birds on the wire mesh moved from interesting to terrifying. It was somewhere in the first hundred or so, anyway. And it was in the way they didn't coo, or caw, or trill, or song. They simply landed on the wire, and they watched him.

  Neil Gaiman

  Song, Interesting, Bird

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