[M]en, though they know full well how much women are worth and how great the benefits we bring them, nonetheless seek to destroy us out of envy for our merits. It's just like the crow, when it produces white nestlings: it is so stricken by envy, knowing how black it is itself, that it kills its own offspring out of pique.

Moderata Fonte

Mots clés empowerment gender men women jealousy feminism misogyny hypocrisy inequality imagery worth envy dignity suppression ugliness crows merits



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If you wish to upset the law that all crows are black, you mustn't seek to show that no crows are; it is enough if you prove one single crow to be white.

William James

Mots clés life crows



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...dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field...

John Geddes

Mots clés poetry nature reflection snow pumpkins field crows furrow-lines grid orange-abacus



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I would like that very much. You have a bargain, lady. I will find you here among the lost souls, trapped women, and birds. I find that my own state has improved, if only slightly. Where I was once likely to travel in the presence of a murder of crows, I find I will only be burdened by an unkindness of ravens. It gives me heart." - A. E. Poe in Nevermore

David Niall Wilson

Mots clés edgar-allan-poe raven crows lenore



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Never a good sign, he thought, when the crows showed up.

Justin Cronin

Mots clés dark-humor vampires apocalypse armageddon creepy crows harbinger



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He could almost taste the tang of that swampy air right here in his own desert parking lot and hear the calls of the heavily beating flock, sorrowing and apologizing and making plans for some other time. Time. He realized that crows had always reminded him of time, dark time. He gazed at the backs of his hands, at the plummy dark repellent veins.

Joy Williams

Mots clés life time death life-and-death crows



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Instead it yanks on a worm wiggling in the loosened soil. Its feathers shimmer in the morning sunlight, a malignant green on black as it tosses its beak back, devouring the worm, and then it cocks its head to stare at her, its eyes funereal and questioning.

Sara Stark

Mots clés ravens crows



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