birds

A believer is a bird in a cage, a free-thinker is an eagle parting the clouds with tireless wings.

Why make so much of fragmentary blue In here and there a bird, or butterfly, Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye, When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?

Like dogs in a wheel, birds in a cage, or squirrels in a chain, ambitious men still climb and climb, with great labor, and incessant anxiety,but never reach the top.

A nightingale dies for shame if another bird sings better.

Birds of a feather will gather together.

Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu' o' care?

I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive,- what time, what circuit first, I ask not; but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: He guides me and the bird. In his good time.

He guides me and the bird. In His good time!

When you take the sires of the cage apart, you do not hurt the bird, but you help it. You let it out of its prison. How do you you know that death does not help me when it takes the wires of my cage down?-that it does not release me, and put me into some better place and better condition of life?

Look sharply after your own thoughts. They come unlooked for, like a new bird seen on your trees, and, if you turn to your usual task, disappear; and you shall never find that perception again; never, I say-but perhaps years, ages, and I know not what events and worlds my lie between you and its return.