To harden the earth the rocks took charge: instantly they grew wings: the rocks that soared: the survivors flew up the lightning bolt, screamed in the night, a watermark, a violet sword, a meteor. The succulent sky had not only clouds, not only space...
Here I came to the very edge where nothing at all needs saying, everything is absorbed through weather and the sea, and the moon swam back, its rays all silvered, and time and again the darkness would be broken by the crash of a wave, and every day o...
In this busy modernized age, it's easy to be blind to the light all around us. You see, there truly are real angels living among us that look just like you and I. If you pay attention, you can spot one because they're quite easy to find. They're the ...
Fly (poem from the book Blue Bridge) Delicate, / butterfly winged, / we vainly push against the sky, / each trying to find our place. Yes, we are going to die, / let's not beat about the bush. / Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, / maybe even years from no...
The scene [Bruegel's 'Landscape with the Fall of Icarus'] is filled with a vast field, and a cow and a farmer plowing. In the left-hand corner is a tiny ocean the size of a palm, and there, I can barely make it out, the two legs of a man who fell hea...
My dreams are going through their death flurries. I thought they were all safely buried, but sometimes they stir in their grave, making my heartstrings twinge. I mean no particular dream, you understand, but the whole radiant flock of them together�...
On the seventh day of the Seventh-month, in the Palace of Long Life, We told each other secretly in the quiet midnight world That we wished to fly in heaven, two birds with the wings of one, And to grow together on the earth, two branches of one tree...
I grew up in an atmosphere tinged with militarism, and afterwards I spent five boring years within the sound of bugles. To this day it gives me a faint feeling of sacrilege not to stand to attention during ‘God save the King’. That is childish, o...
At the Moor Wanderer in the black wind; quietly the dry reeds whisper In the stillness of the moor. In the gray sky A flock of wild birds follows; Slanting over gloomy waters. Turmoil. In decayed hut The spirit of putrescence flutters with black wing...
Fog does trap me to the Earth, For gravity no longer Holds me like the dark things do, Their will and brawn is stronger. Birds just may bypass these clouds To cower under stars Who shoot and lasso each of them In ties as strong as ours. Wings soon br...
The more we understand how we individually operate, the easier it is for us to understand that we are all similar..from the same human race;doing the best we can based on the programmings that we've each acquired. Then, we never have to take things p...
I like something about George W. Bush. A lot. After spending more than a decade having almost physiological-chemical reactions anytime I saw him, getting the heebie-jeebies whenever he spoke - after being sure from the start that he was a Gremlin on ...
There can be moments, when the rope we hold to, becomes a strand of thread, where we feel that we are barely hanging on but when the thread feels as though it's about to break; just know that God will never let us fall but rather, He will be there to...
Stardestroyer Controller #1: Sir! We've lost our bridge deflector shield! Admiral Piett: Intensify the forward batteries, I don't want anything to get through. [A-Wing careenes towards Super Star Destroyer Bridge] Admiral Piett: Intensify forward fir...
[Holmes detects that an assassin is hiding on the ceiling and preparing to kill Simza; he compares taking the man out to preparing an omelet] Sherlock Holmes: [voice-over] First, pillage the nest. Clip wings. Now, blunt his beak. Crack eggs. Scramble...
Homer, the aged poet: Where are my heroes? Where are you, my children? Where are my own, the curious ones, the first, the original ones? Name me, muse, the immortal singer who, abandoned by those who listened to him, lost his voice. He who, from the ...
Alma Jr., Age 13: Daddy, tell about when you rode broncs in the rodeo. Ennis Del Mar: Short story honey. Only 'bout three seconds I was on that bronc. Next thing I knew, I was flyin' through the air... only I wasn't no angel like you and Jenny here; ...
I’m a big believer in winging it. I’m a big believer that you’re never going to find perfect city travel experience or the perfect meal without a constant willingness to experience a bad one. Letting the happy accident happen is what a lot of v...
Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk? Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel? Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?" Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings, This painted Child of Dirt that st...
After college, I went to San Francisco and worked as a secretary in a reinsurance company. That was a pretty dismal job. It was a real small place. Guys would come in, and they'd sort of stick out their arms like wings so I could take their coats off...
Cause nobody's the slightest idea who we are, or who we were, not even we ourselves - except, that is, in the glimmer of a moment of fair business between strangers, or the nod of knowing and agreement between friends. Other than these, we go out ano...
