The soul is like a caged bird, it waits for the right person to open the door and set it free.

When we hear the bird sing, it hears only how to love. (Quand on entend l’oiseau chanter, – Lui n’entend que comment aimer.)

If you’re a bird, it’s a pandemic. If you’re a human being, it’s not.

There is coming a day, when freedom will just be a essence of the mind, an inner dwelling that was once physically attainable. They will tell you where you can live, and what you can...

I have the ostrich of an asshole. I also have the asshole of an ostrich. With these two things, I have everything I need. Well, aside from love.

A nursery rhyme shapes your bones and nerves, and it shapes your mind. They are powerful, nursery rhymes, and immensely old, and not toys, even though they are for children.” “But they make no sense!”...

Poetry is like a bird, it ignores all frontiers.

In alien lands I keep the bodyOf ancient native rites and things:I gladly free a little birdieAt celebration of the spring.I’m now free for consolation,And thankful to almighty Lord:At least, to one of his creationsI’ve...

Love is a speedy bird that looks like a fish. If you catch one in the sky, try not to drown.

Gliders, sail planes, they’re wonderful flying machines. It’s the closest you can come to being a bird.

Larry Bird looks like a bird, and Johnny Vagina looks like—hey, what is that in the sky?

A Rule: Life without Islam is a naked tree,Birds without trees can never feel free.

I ain’t never seen a creature like that before, she says. He’s so smart, he’s-More, like a person than a bird? I says.Yeah, she says. That’s it.Whatever you do, I says, don’t tell him that....

Don’t let someone keep putting out the flame God keeps re-lighting, we all have a purpose. As a wing to a bird. As wind that goes the destiny over the sea.

You got the eggs in you; the world is fully ready to celebrate the chicks out of your laying labour. Never give up. Go and breed! Go and breed great dreams.

We never really know what might me beside us or ahead, but most days we walk as if we do

Then came nightthat was like falling water.At times, for hours,a bird spirit,half buzzard, half swan,just above the rushesfrom which a snow-storm howls.

I am a waning birdencased in a glass sphere;I cannot see my prison,and my cries no one can hear.

The motions of her mind were as incalculable as the flit of a bird in the branches

God gives every bird his worm, but He does not throw it into the nest.

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?

The Mercy of Allah is an Ocean, Our sins are a lump of clay clenched between the beak of a pigeon. The pigeon is perched on the branch of a tree at the edge of...

Again burst out that chant McKay had heard as he had floated through the mists upon the lake. Now, as then, despite his opened ears, he could distinguish no words, but clearly he understood its...

When the weaver bird flies, nobody talks; when the busy bee flies, no one will make comments… But when a human being begins to fly, you begin to hear talks in the town such as...

She was only half Bird now, and the other half song. She liked it that way.

I am Cinna’s bird, ignited, flying frantically to escape something inescapable. The feathers of flame that grow from my body. Beating my wings only fans the blaze. I consume myself, but to no end.Finally, my...

The winged beasts and angels know, that mortals cannot fly. But how I flew to see the sun; a broken bird am I.

She said she’s so happy she could fly. I said, I’m glad you find those mechanical bird wings I made out of political rhetoric uplifting.

Owls hoot in B flat, cuckoos in D, but the water ousel sings in the voice of the stream. She builds her nest back of the waterfalls so the water is a lullaby to the...

The thirstiest bird is surely the swallow. My love is so fluid I’ll bet drinking it would give you the gift of flight.

Everyone likes birds. What wild creature is more accessible to our eyes and ears, as close to us and everyone in the world, as universal as a bird?

LIKE MOTHER, LIKE LOVERThere is the motherWho cooks too muchTo feed her children,And there is the motherWho cooks too little,Or not at all.There is the birdThat returns to its nestWith just a frail wormAnd feeds...

A one-winged bird does not fly south for the winter. It flies south, west, north, and east, over and over. That’s how I feel when I’m in love, only I walk.

The purest moment, tranquil hour of Earth’s expectancy. We lay on the soft rose sands beside the sleeping sea in happy land of fragrant meadows I dreamed a dream of. The whisper of the tide,...

I am not an early bird. I go to bed normally between midnight and 1 o’clock, so it is understandable that I cannot be an early bird. I wake up around 9 o’clock.

Everybody’s a bird, locked up in a pretty cage. Sometimes you fly to a slightly bigger one, but you never quite have the courage to abandon captivity completely.

I’m trying to keep you safe.” Safe as a porcelain bowl wrapped in cotton linen and boxed up. It would be a lie to say she didn’t want to feel safe, or that Nolan’s worry...

The robin flew from his swinging spray of ivy on to the top of the wall and he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world...

Twelve to 15 years of acting school, and I am being a bird.

You know, don’t tell anybody I’m a jail bird, you know, but there were a bunch of us that were years ago involved in the pro-life movement.

I don’t, for the record, have a Tweety Bird fetish.

Jacksonville’s official bird is the butterfly. The butterfly is also Jacksonville’s official flower.

It was a vision of the one thing that we both hoped someday would be…the warmth of our bodies next to each other’s, reflected in sunset of our secret place… We longed for it to...

Bird has to fly with their own wings; we have to think our own thoughts, find our own destiny.

Breath (from the book Blue Bridge)Whispering to myselfWith every step I take,Trying out names, for I knowThere is something yet to be called …..I know it, something up aheadJust around the bendOr over the rise...

A bush-warbler,Coming to the verandah-edge,Left its droppingsOn the rice-cakes.

Who were these people? Where was all this joy, and where does joy go when it leaves your family? Does it go into someone else’s family, soak into the earth, or does it dissolve away...

Life is like the flappy bird game. There’s no pause nor another chance to live after dying and there could be endless obstacles. After all, it is just a matter of patience and perseverance to...

The Bird has no wings if it fears to fly.

I knew I was a grain of sand in the vast desert that never ended and he was a sparkling star in the sky. I was a fish who couldn’t breathe in air and had...