Bird
Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings.
My heart is like a singing bird.
I wanted to know the name of every stone and flower and insect and bird and beast. I wanted to know where it got its color, where it got its life — but there was no one to tell me.
I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will.
The early bird gets the worm. The early worm... gets eaten.
For man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, most perfectly alive.
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
For a bird, especially for the more musically inventive, song is the defining characteristic, the primary way by which it knows itself and is known by others. To lose its species song is to lose not just its identity but some part of its presence in the world.
People are in such a hurry to launch their product or business that they seldom look at marketing from a bird's eye view and they don't create a systematic plan.
The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.
Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.
To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring — these are some of the rewards of the simple life.
If I'm going to be a caged bird, I'll sing the best song I can.
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
What law, what reason can deny that gift so sweet, so natural that God has given a stream, a fish, a beast, a bird?
No better way is there to learn to love Nature than to understand Art. It dignifies every flower of the field. And, the boy who sees the thing of beauty which a bird on the wing becomes when transferred to wood or canvas will probably not throw the customary stone.
The bird is powered by its own life and by its motivation.
Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.
Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.
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