Wing Quotes (page 9)
Her Triumph. I did the dragon's will until you came. Because I had fancied love a casual. Improvisation, or a settled game. That followed if I let the kerchief fall: Those deeds were best that gave the minute wings. And heavenly music if they gave it wit; And then you stood among the dragon-rings. I mocked, being crazy, but you mastered it. And broke the chain and set my ankles free, Saint George or else a pagan Perseus; And now we stare astonished at the sea, And a miraculous strange bird...
William Butler Yeats
GOD: I own you like I own the caves. THE OCEAN: Not a chance. No comparison. GOD: I made you. I could tame you. THE OCEAN: At one time, maybe. But not now. GOD: I will come to you, freeze you, break you. THE OCEAN: I will spread myself like wings. I am a billion tiny feathers. You have no idea what's happened to me.
Dave Eggers
To harden the earththe rocks took charge: instantlythey grew wings: the rocksthat soared: the survivorsflew upthe lightning bolt, screamed in the night, a watermark, a violet sword, a meteor. The succulentskyhad not only clouds, not only space smelling of oxygen, but an earthly stoneflashing here and therechanged into a dove, changed into a bell, into immensity, into a piercingwind: into a phosphorescent arrow, into salt of the sky.
Pablo Neruda
My heart, the bird of the wilderness, has found its sky in your eyes. They are the cradle of the morning, they are the kingdom of the stars. My songs are lost in their depths. Let me but soar in that sky, in its lonely immensity. Let me but cleave its cloudsand spread wings in its sunshine.
Rabindranath Tagore
I think of bad news as a huge bird, with the wings of a crow and the face of my Grade Four school teacher, sparse bun, rancid teeth, wrinkly frown, pursed mouth and all, sailing around the world under cover of darkness pleased to be the bearer of ill tidings, carrying a basket of rotten eggs, and knowing- as the sun comes up- exactly where to drop them. On me, for one.
Margaret Atwood
Evading all the boredom, all the vast chagrin / That load their heaviness upon this fog-bound life, / Happy is he who on a stalwart wing can knife / Across the haze to meadows shining and serene! Happy is he whose thoughts soar like the lark to sing, / As through the morning skies, in freedom, he ascends, / - Who, gazing down on life, completely comprehends / The language of the flowers and every speechless thing!
Charles Baudelaire