Don't quack like a duck, soar like an eagle.
Be like a duck. Calm on the surface, but always paddling like the dickens underneath.
They're not chicks. They're ducks.
It doesn't matter if you're born in a duck yard, so long as you are hatched from a swan's egg!
There's no need to curse God if you're an ugly duckling. He chooses those strong enough to endure it so that they can guide others who've felt the same.
Sick of lame ducks, use Cosmic Ordering and your ducks will lay golden eggs.
Jem and Will had set up camp on one of the long tables in the back of the library, ostensibly to help advise her, but more likely, it seemed, to mock and be amused by her consternation. You point your feet out too much when you walk, Will went on. He was busy polishing an apple on his shirtfront, and appeared not to notice Tessa glaring at him. Camille walks delicately. Like a faun in the woods. Not like a duck. I do not walk like a duck. I like ducks, Jem observed diplomatically. Especially the ones in Hyde Park. He glanced sideways at Will; both boys were sitting on the edge of the high table, their legs dangling over the side. Remember when you tried to convince me to feed a poultry pie to the mallards in the park to see if you could breed a race of cannibal ducks? They ate it too, Will reminisced. Bloodthirsty little beasts. Never trust a duck.
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