I was caged by him like a bird with clipped wings. I could flutter but I couldn’t escape though I’m not certain I’d want to even if I could.

Pan, who and what art thou?" he cried huskily."I'm youth, I'm joy," Peter answered at a venture, "I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg.

It's time to make love, douse the glim; The fireflies twinkle and dim; The stars lean together Like birds of a feather, And the loin lies down with the limb.

What I saw was just one eyeIn the dawn as I was going:A bird can carry all the skyIn that little button glowing.Never in my life I wentSo deep into the firmament.

It would be nice to find a ‘planet of trees and birds’ in the space; only trees and birds, millions of different trees and millions of different birds!

Yes, I say. Three of these flying birds. I touch my collarbone, marking the path of their flight-toward my heart. One for each member of the family I left behind.

Early summer days are a jubilee time for birds. In the fields, around the house, in the barn, in the woods, in the swamp - everywhere love and songs and nests and eggs.

The birds fly south for the winter not because it’s cold, but because they have wings. Similarly, love has the ultimate flight pattern, and that pattern is plaid.

And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings ... even the birds stop to listen.

My life is filled with buckets of tears; thousands of people shouting in my ears; the humming and chirping of hundreds of Himalayan birds, which are irresistible to hear.

Birds have done great jobs for the progression of humanity: They kept alive our love for freedom and they insistently motivated us to reach the skies, to reach the stars!

The bird dares to break the shell, then the shell breaks open and the bird can fly openly. This is the simplest principle of success. You dream, you dare and and you fly.

If my love could be represented by a blur, it would be the beating of a hummingbird’s wings. Did you know that my love is the only love that can fly backwards?


Consider the road, long and forkedas the Devil’s own tongue.Consider the Devil, burningevery bridge; Placingin every tree a black bird. In every bird a black thought.

There are stories in the air as thick as birds around me, he would say. I will save those stories from starving he would say. I have a great hunger for stories, he would say.