All has been looted, betrayed, sold; black death's wing flashed ahead.
Happiness is within you... so unlock the chains from your heart and let yourself grow- like the sweet flower you are. I know the answer- just spread your wings and set yourself free.
Telling the truth is like exposing the underside of our wings. We only see that part when we fly.
Like the entomologist in search of colorful butterflies, my attention has chased in the gardens of the grey matter cells with delicate and elegant shapes, the mysterious butterflies of the soul, whose beating of wings may one day reveal to us the secrets of the mind.
Why do the right wing media so assiduously scrutinize the words of a grief filled mother and ignore the words of a lying president?
Those who gave away their wings are sad not to see them fly.
Some people just wait for someone to take them under their wings but they should just find someones wings to grab onto.
A word does not say anything And at the same time it hides everything Just as the wind that hides the water Like the flowers that mud hides. A glance does not say anything And at the same time it says everything Like rain on your face Or an old treasure map A truth does not say anything And at the same time it hides everything Like a bonfire that does not go out Like a stone that is born dust. If one day you need me, I will be nothing And at the same time I will be everything Because in your eyes are my wings And the shore where I drown.
I think the major event that shaped my life was being a Naval aviator. I got my commission and wings at 18 years old, and then I went into combat at 19. And I think, as I look back on it, that whole experience probably shaped my life more than any incident, or any event.
Aubade THE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, And climbing shakes his dewy wings. He takes this window for the East, And to implore your light he sings- Awake, awake! the morn will never rise Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes. The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes, But still the lover wonders what they are Who look for day before his mistress wakes. Awake, awake! break thro' your veils of lawn! Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn!
My company mascot is the bumblebee. Because of its tiny wings and heavy body, aerodynamically the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly. But the bumblebee doesn't know that, so it flies anyways.
Virtue could see to do what virtue would By her own radiant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, Where with her best nurse Contemplation She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. He that has light within his own clear breast May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day; But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the midday sun.
. . . It wasn't until the jet engine came into being and that engine was coupled with special airplane designs - such as the swept wing - that airplanes finally achieved a high enough work capability, efficiency and comfort level to allow air transportation to really take off.
Like the apple of Thine eye preserve me, O Lord God; defend me and beneath Thy wings shelter me from temptations.
The Silk Worm I stood before a silk worm one day. And that night my heart said to me, "I can do things like that, I can spin skies, I can be woven into love that can bring warmth to people; I can be soft against a crying face, I can be wings that lift, and I can travel on my thousand feet throughout the earth, my sacs filled with the sacred." And I replied to my heart, "Dear, can you really do all those things?" And it just nodded "Yes" in silence. So we began and will never cease.
He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.
God has given you a spirit with wings on which to soar into the spacious firmament of Love and Freedom. Is it not pitiful than that you cut your wings with your own hands and suffer your soul to crawl like an insect upon the earth?
I doubt if anyone of any tenderness or imagination can see the hand of a child and not be a little frightened of it. It is awful to think of the essential human energy moving so tiny a thing; it is like imagining that human nature could live in the wing of a butterfly or the leaf of a tree. When we look upon lives so human and yet so small... We feel the same kind of obligation to these creatures that a deity might feel...
I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly. I'll do what it takes till I touch the sky.
No foreign sky protected me, no stranger's wing shielded my face. I stand as witness to the common lot survivor of that time, that place.
One hundred years from now, I expect the Tatas to be much bigger than it is now. More importantly, I hope the Group comes to be regarded as being the best in India.. best in the manner in which we operate, best in the products we deliver, and best in our value systems and ethics. Having said that, I hope that a hundred years from now we will spread our wings far beyond India.
Politics? Boring? Politics is history on the wing! What other sphere of human activity calls forth all that is most noble in men's souls, and all that is most base? Or has such excitement? Or more vividly exposes our strengths and weaknesses? Boring? You might as well say that life itself is boring!
The love between a mother and her daughter is special. A mother takes her daughter under her wing and teaches her how to be a woman. In order to do this, you have to ask yourself what it means to be a woman of today. How do you balance care for others with your own quest for meaning and joy in life and how do you pass on these lessons to your daughter?
Children who hear acquire language without any particular effort; the words that fall from others' lips they catch on the wing, as it were, delightedly, while the little deaf child must trap them by a slow and often painful process. But whatever the process, the result is wonderful. Gradually from naming an object we advance step by step until we have traversed the vast distance between our first stammered syllable and the sweep of thought in a line of Shakespeare.
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