Quotes About Wings

The Spirit of holiness and love is also the Spirit of wisdom and knowledge about love; and they are in fact one and the same Spirit: "Truth and love are inseparable wings—for truth cannot fly without love—and love cannot hover without truth

Forgetfulness is like a song That, freed from beat and measure, wanders. Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled, Outspread and motionless, -- A bird that coasts the wind unwearyingly. Forgetfulness is rain at night, Or an old house in a forest, -- or a child. Forgetfulness is white, -- white as a blasted tree, And it may stun the sybil into prophecy, Or bury the Gods. I can remember much forgetfulness.

World's flying like birds; my car's in flight. The city lights are spattered on my windshield like the fragments of the night. And I'm in flight. The sky's a wheel, a merry-go-round of wings and snow and steel, and fire. We'll tread the sky, we'll ride the scarlet horses.

I feel the shadow of wings across my face, Icarus wings, faltering in my flight.

Beginning The moon drops one or two feathers into the field. The dark wheat listens. Be still. Now. There they are, the moons young, trying Their wings. Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone Wholly, into the air. I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe Or move. I listen. The wheat leans back toward its own darkness, And I lean toward mine.

When a dragonfly flutters by, you may not realize, but it's the greatest flier in nature. It can hover, fly backwards, even upside down.

To run and work the law commands, but gives us neither feet nor hands. But better news the gospel brings, it bids us fly and gives us wings.

Talaith sat upon an airborne throne of black marble held aloft by a pair of giant flapping raven's wings growing from the throne's back. Despite myself, I was impressed. Much classier than a broom or carpet.

If you give me wings I will soar for you Even if this whole land Sinks down to the water If you give me a sword I will fight for you Even if this whole sky Shoots through with your light

I could fly. Nobody ever promised I won't die. Yet without wings I flew And now without regret For promises unkept For things undone Now without much pain I feel like flying yet... again.

I have no terror of death. It is the coming of death that terrifies me. Its monstrous wings seem to wheel in the leaden air around me.

But surely it is something to have been The best beloved for a little while, To have walked hand in hand with Love, and seen His purple wings flit once across thy smile.

Para mi corazón basta tu pecho, para tu libertad bastan mis alas.»

In you the wars and the flights accumulated, From you the wings of the songbirds rose.

Y algo golpeaba en mi alma, fiebre o alas perdidas, y me fui haciendo solo, descifrando aquella quemadura y escribí la primera línea vaga, vaga, sin cuerpo, pura, tontería pura sabiduría del que no sabe nada, y vi de pronto el cielo desgranado y abierto.

Along the Chilean coast, with cold and winter, when rain falls washing the weeks. Listen: solitude becomes music once more, and it seems its appearance is that of air, of rain, that time, something with wave and wings, passes by, grows. And the harp awakes from oblivion.

Para mi corazón basta tu pecho, para tu libertad bastan mis alas.

Para mi corazón basta tu pecho, para tu libertad bastan mis alas. Desde mi boca llegará hasta el cielo lo que estaba dormido sobre tu alma.

Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy! I look to you for protection. I will hide beneath the shadow of your wings until this violent storm is past.

Our correspondences have wings - paper birds that fly from my house to yours - flocks of ideas crisscrossing the country. Once opened, a connection is made. We are not alone in the world.

For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength and breath And the want Of thought is death Then am I A happy fly If I live Or if I die

Knowledge is Life with wings

Arise you little glancing wings, and sing your infant joy! Arise and drink your bliss, for every thing that lives is holy!

Tyger, tyger, burning bright In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could Frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And, when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? - The Tyger