Quotes About Wings

The two sides of the personality are like the wings of a butterfly with eyes in the form of a frightening disguise from misunderstanding.

Illium, with his wings of silver-kissed blue and a face designed to seduce both males and females, not to mention his ability to do the most impossible acrobatics in the air, would provide a worthy diversion. The fact that he'd decided to ditch half his clothing was just icing on the cake.

Thought you were--' '--Raphael said--' 'I said, no way in hell--' 'Damn straight--' '--and Ransom was ready to come--' '--woke up and I had wings!

There is one—how would you put it—loophole." "Loophole? More like a giant cavern if I have wings.

Illium was a stunning sight against the lightening sky, his wings sweeping through the air with a grace that made him seem a half-forgotten dream. When he landed in the courtyard, his wings flaring out for an instant, he was at once very much a man, physical and sexual, and an unattainable fantasy.

He watched her leave in a sweep of midnight and dawn, her wings unlike any other, and he knew he'd damn his own honor and take vengeance on the world should anyone dare lay a finger on her.

The 'bath' was almost the size of a small swimming pool, the steam curling off it pure, sensual temptation. A shower stood to her right, but it had no glass walls, the area defined only by an expanse of gold-flecked tile. A lightbulb went off in her head. 'Wings,' she whispered. 'It's all to accommodate those beautiful wings.

Trembling, Mahiya walked to lean her face against Jason's back, his wings strong and sleek and paradoxically soft on either side of her. 'I don't know what to think.' She passed him the letter without shifting from her position tucked against his back. He didn't force her to move, didn't attempt to turn and take her into his arms—as if he understood she just needed to lean on his strength a little until the world stopped spinning.

To everyone who has ever dreamed of flying and to all of you who have flown with me.

She settled into a crouch, wings pinned tightly to her back. "Come on then, angel boy." She kept her eyes on the muscles in his shoulders, saw the instant one tensed. A split second later, they were moving in a wicked, dangerous dance of steel and bodies. She'd never really had a chance to spar with Raphael like this, and damn if it wasn't the most fun she'd ever had.

Mortal born. Mortal fall. Mortal heart. Ambrosia's sweet kiss. Wings of dawn. Wings of night. This will be. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She screamed it out and felt immediately better. "Right, Ellie, pack it away until your archangel gets home. Your focus is fixing this mess of Harrison's.

The female archangel leaned back in her chair. 'I woke to the sound of something tapping against my window. I assumed it to be a trapped bird and got up to release it.' The image should've been incongruous with Michaela's selfish beauty, but there was a powerful sense of truth in her words. Perhaps, to be 'human' in her eyes, you had to have wings.

The owl looked at her again, its eyes endless and beautiful and strange. Under her hands, its warmth was a soft glow, and in her mind spoke the voice that wasn't there. Child of love. Child of grief. Child of courage. Watch for the broken blade. Watch for the mourner. He is your death. A long sigh . . . and the owl spread its wings.

Mortal born. Mortal fall. Mortal heart. Ambrosia's sweet kiss. Wings of dawn. Wings of night. This will be.

Allowing his own power to rise, he felt his wings begin to glow. "You carry no babe." Silence, her shock morphing rapidly into fury. "An accusation of deliberate falsehood! You incite a war!

Browncoats, look up to the skies! Browncoats, hail the dawn! Today will see tyranny Dying with the morn. "Browncoats, are you weary? Browncoats, rise and sing! Your time has come, your war is won. Victory takes wing.

The mad head of the house was rotting, and night was dragging her wings across the moon, tracing filigree on the floors. In the attic, more black moths were dancing because it was cold, because it was dark. Because they were hungry. For the butterfly.

Closing the gate on her oldest fears as she had closed the gate of her own fenced yard, she discovered the wings she'd always wished she had.

BE Lost On a painted sky Where the clouds are hung For the poet's eye You may find him If you may find him There On a distant shore By the wings of dreams Through an open door You may know him If you may

If the future's looking dark We're the ones who have to shine If there's no one in control We're the ones who draw the line Though we live in trying times We're the ones who have to try And we know that time has wings So we're the ones who have to fly" - from "Everyday Glory," by

Transcendence is the business of poets. That's what they're for. They're not like you and me. They have that extra bit that's always ready for take-off. Poets understand why God didn't give us wings: he wanted entertainment. He wanted us to aspire, to ascend. He wanted poetry. My

Given angel's wings, where might you fly? In what sweet heaven might you find your love? Unwilling to be bound, where might you move, Lost between the wonder and the why?...

Salvation is as easy as chicken wings, I guess.

So spoke Grenouille the Great and, while the peasantry of scent danced and celebrated beneath him, he glided with wide-stretched wings down from his golden clouds, across the nocturnal fields of his soul, and home to his heart.