Best 910 quotes in «wings quotes» category

Give them the wings to fly and the roots to stay. Never put them in a golden cage, taking away their wings with their desire to fly and call it love.

God your love is so precious! You protect people in the shadow of your wings. Psalms 36:7

Goes like a Magician soona without a wings and soon he will follow his own death like Houdini.

He damaged her wings and demanded her to fly.

Her words are her wings. She's flying.

He screamed in agony as large black wings erupted from his back - each had four large talons on it.

He rolled his eyes and took my hand. His hand was hard and calloused, tough with muscle and old scars. The night settled around us like a blanket. I could hear the water lapping against the dock. We were totally alone. “You’re . . . ,” he began, and I waited, heart throbbing in my throat. “Such a pain,” he concluded. “What?” I asked, just as his head swooped in and his mouth touched mine. I tried to speak, but one of Fang’s hands held the back of my head, and he kept his lips pressed against me, kissing me softly but with a Fanglike determination. Oh, jeez, I thought distractedly. Jeez, this is Fang, and me, and . . . Fang tilted his head to kiss me more deeply, and I felt totally lightheaded. Then I remembered to breathe through my nose, and the fog cleared a tiny bit. Somehow we were pressed together, Fang’s arms around me now, sliding under my wings, his hands flat against my back. It was incredible. I loved it. I loved him. It was a total disaster. Gasping, I pulled back. “I, uh—,” I began oh so coherently, and then I jumped up, almost knocking him over, and raced down the dock. I took off, flying fast, like a rocket.

Human locks? Please," Tamani said. "May as well leave the door open.

Hold on to your heart and life will give you wings.

How I wish I was like the water, Flowing so freely with every drop Let my every emotion wonder, No need to start, nor even stop How I wish I was like the fire, Burning with every flame up Leaving a trace of hot desire As a Phoenix raises its' wings up How I wish I was like the earth, Raising each flower from the ground Seeing the beauty of death and birth And then returning to the ground How I wish I was like the wind, Hearing each whisper, sound and thought A lonesome and wandering little wind, Shattering all that has been sought Oh, how I wish I was where you are, Not separated by empty space, so far It seems like we're galaxies apart, But we find hope within our heart And how I wish I was all of the above, So I can come below and yet forget, The beauty of angels which come down like a dove And demons who love with no regret.

If you never dream of flying, then you'll never wake up with wings.

If it wasn’t for all those silver wings spread out to help you on your journey, you would’a been dead or someplace screamin’ in a nut house a long time ago.

If only humans had real feathery wings to jump off from tallest buildings in order to take flights at nights. An escape vagabonding and exploring mother nature's delight!

If only our eyes were silver feathered wings, undoubtedly, we would lash-lift our shimmered lids to the highest of life's limitless heights...then innately, instinctively, intentionally we would fly.

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 wings begin to falter, I lose height, and gravity pulls me into a foamy sea the color of Finnick's eyes. I float on my back, which continues to burn beneath the water, but the agony quiets to pain. When I am adrift and unable to navigate, that's when they come. The dead. The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface. The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she'll be lost as well. "Prim, let go!" And finally she does.

I believe that the world could be different. I believe that our destinies aren't chains around our necks, but wings that give us flight.

I have become intoxicated again. You are such a potent wine, my friend. To escape your withdrawal effects, tomorrow I will drink in excess. Alas, why make me love? I was aware, conscious, and sensible before. I am ill by cause of this illusion. The devil plays tricks on me more and more. I was a harp you immaculately plucked at will. Your score, the nightingale song within notes composed to imprison and bear me wings. Oh, if only they could hear how it sings! I am now beyond parched. My strings left untouched. You are no longer an oasis, my friend, but a mirage soon coming to an end.

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 to stay in dark waters forever while he was a majestic bird who soared so high that he barely touched the ground. I did not deserve him. I could only watch him from down here and wish, wish that he could come here someday. That he could know that I existed. But for that, he had to fall. He had to drop to the ground but I could not let that happen. And then I thought, birds are meant to fly and stars are meant to shine and if someone takes it away from them, they can't be the same anymore. So, I just prayed that his wings never fail him, that the star never explodes. And I was at peace.

I have wings on the back of my shoulders, and I'm ready to fly.

I keep flipping these wings no matter how it’s hard for me to fly. As long as they keep on moving, I know someday that they’ll be able to reach out the highest sky. Cause I believe in their strength, In the way I have never given up on them Or on myself at the first place …

I’ll tell Jamison I can’t keep my life vow. He’ll help me somehow. I’ll get you the best protector in Avalon, I promise, but... it’s not me anymore.’ ‘I don’t want another protector,’ laurel said, her chest feeling hollow, panicked. ‘You don’t understand,’ Tamani said, not looking at her. ‘It;s not about us; I can’t be your fear-gleidhidh... effectively. In hindsight, I should probably never even tried; if I was doing my job right, none of this would have happpened. When I-- when I thought you were dead, I went crazy. I honestly didn’t know myself. I was afraid of who I had become. I cna’t live always knowing that I could lose you at any moment; that I could feel that way again.’ He hesitated. ‘It’s too hard.’ ‘No, no, Tam,’ she said, smoothing his hair, caressing his cheek. ‘You can’t, not now, not--’ ‘I’m not as good as you think I am, Laurel,’ he protested, desperation filling his voice. ‘I don’t trust myself to protect you anymore.’ ‘Then find someone else to fill that role if you have to,’ she said, jaw clenched, ‘but don’t leave me!’ She scooted closer and took his face in her hands, waited while he built up the courage to raise his eyelids at her. ‘Wherever we’re going to go today, I want you with me, and I never want you to leave my side again.’ His ragged breath touched on her face now, her body pulled right against his chest, feeling his essence pull on her like a magnet. ‘I don’t care if you gaurd my and protect me-- all I care is that you love me. I want you to kiss me good night mefore I go to sleep and bid me good morning the moment I wake up. And not just today; tomorrow and the next day and everyday for the rest of my life. Will you come with me Tamani? Be with me?

I may not have wings, but my hands do a better job in wiping away the tears anyway.

I may not have a world of things, I may not have the biggest wings, What I do have is a heart of love, Because I trust the One above

In learning a language, when from mere words we reach the laws of words, we have gained a great deal. But if we stop at that point and concern ourselves only with the marvels of the formation of a language, seeking the hidden reason of all its apparent caprices, we do not reach that end, for grammar is not literature… When we come to literature, we find that, though it conforms to the rules of grammar, it is yet a thing of joy; it is freedom itself. The beauty of a poem is bound by strict laws, yet it transcends them. The laws are its wings. They do not keep it weighed down. They carry it to freedom. Its form is in law, but its spirit is in beauty. Law is the first step toward freedom, and beauty is the complete liberation which stands on the pedestal of law. Beauty harmonizes in itself the limit and the beyond – the law and the liberty.

I'm here!" I said..."I'm read to go home!" As if they couldn't see me. As if I couldn't remember what it had been like, fluttering next to someone's ear and whispering into it. How the whole earth was like a musical instrument that we could play effortlessly. ...I could not fly. My sister was not there. My heart was broken.

I pray that I'll have wings one day, in which Your light adorns; but for now please let me be Your servant, Lord, like an angel not yet born.

In the depth a light will grow, A silver shine no shadows know, Like wings unfolding in the sky, That circle 'round a gleaming eye, Turning darkness all away, Even depths will know their day, For every shadow has its end, In light! Life will return again!

I rip out my wings I so I can't be free, I rip up my wounds so it doesn't heal, if I rip out my heart does this mean I can't feel

It didn't matter to her that Tamani only had weak magic, he was magic.

I spread my majestic wings. I had really done it! I was a noble falcon, lord of the sky. I launched myself off the sidewalk and flew straight into the fence.

I spread my wings. And my dress does the rest.

It doesn’t take long for your fortunes to turn. One second you’re fluttery as a bird, the next you’re on the ground with your wings clipped.

It’s an unfair life you fail a thousand times and win just once

I think our job as parents is to give our kids roots to grow and wings to fly. Deborah Norville

It hurts, doesn't it? Giving someone everything you can think of. The wings to fly and roots to stay and yet watch them choose none of those, leaving you hanging in the middle of void and nothingness.

It's been said that parents should give their children roots and wings. That was a perfect description of my parents. Even in a wheelchair, my father was a dreamer with his head in the clouds and my mother was the roots with both feet planted firmly on terra quaking firma.

It is a bird’s imagination, not its wings, that determines how high it can fly.

It is as simple as that. Birds fly because they have wings and so when you can’t grow the wings, you can’t be called a bird. Leaders make impacts because they create new ideas and so if you can’t think of any new innovative ideas, you can’t be a leader.

It's her black wings that make her beautiful.

I wear a pair of wings Full of flaws and imperfections But they are still beautiful enough to spread them and fly Feeling so perfectly unflawed …

It's - it's as if there is a dragon inside me. I don't know how big she is; she may still be growing. But she has wings, and *strength*, and - and I can't keep her in a cage. She'll die. *I'll* die. I know it isn't modest to say these things, but I *know* I'm capable of more than life in Scirland will allow. It's all right for women to study theology, or literature, but nothing so rough and ready as this. And yet this is what I *want*. Even if it's hard, even if it's dangerous. I don't care. I need to see where my wings can carry me.

It’s—it’s as if there is a dragon inside me. I don’t know how big she is; she may still be growing. But she has wings, and strength, and—and I can’t keep her in a cage. She’ll die. I’ll die. I know it isn’t modest to say these things, but I know I’m capable of more than life in Scirland will allow. It’s all right for women to study theology, or literature, but nothing so rough and ready as this. And yet this is what I want. Even if it’s hard, even if it’s dangerous. I don’t care. I need to see where my wings can carry me.

It's your call," he said softly, "but whatever you decide, I'll help you." He placed a soft, warm hand at the back of her neck and Laurel's breath caught in her chest. "Whatever you need, I'll be. If you need the science geek to give you answers from a textbook, I'm your guy; if you just want a friend to sit by you in bio and help you feel better when you're sad, I'm still your guy." His thumb slowly stroked across her earlobe and down her cheek. "And if you need someone to hold you and protect you from anyone in the world who might want to hurt you, then I am definitely your guy." His pale-blue eyes bore into hers, and for a second she couldn't breath. "But it's all up to you," he whispered.

I’ve been lucky enough to cross paths with these angels who seem to brush the dust off my wings so effortlessly. These wonderful people I don’t and will never know. I want to be one of them. I want to be many of them. Radiating, resonating, finding lost souls and then exhaling magic.

I watched them dancing and masquerading with somebody else's wings

Max." Fang let go of my hand. "Right now, it's really all about—us." He swooped down to the right in a big semicircle, ending facing me. Slowly we climbed upward, until we were almost vertical, flying straight up to the sun. While carefully synchronizing our wings—they almost touched—Fang leaned in, gently put one hand behind my neck, and kissed me. It was just about as close to heaven as I'll ever get, I guess. I closed my eyes, lost in the feeling of flying and kissing and being with the one person in the world I completely, utterly trusted. When we finally broke apart, we looked down at the others, who were way far below us now. Angel was shading her eyes, looking up at us with a big smile. She was sitting on a dolphin's back, and I hoped soon someone would explain to the dolphin that he shouldn't let Angel take advantage of his good nature. Still looking up at us, Angel gave us a big thumbs-up. "She approves," Fang said with a hint of amusement. "Jeez," I wondered aloud. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

My mama steps out of her dress and drops it, an inheritance falling to my feet. She stands alone: bathed, blooming, burdened with nothing of this world. Her body is naked and beautiful, her wings gray and scorched, her brown eyes piercing the brown of mine. I watch her departure, her flapping wings: She doesn’t look back, not even once, not even to whisper my name

Michael outstretched his great big wings, which covered the surrounding area with a plethora of feathers. Then with a single swoop he leapt masterfully into the sky. Soon he was above the buildings, crossing the city as if he were a part of the wind itself.

Not every winged Creature is considered a bird or a bat. Some wings are made of magic. - Raani York – 2013 -

Nature has no beauty forbidden Manmade concrete slab: guilt-ridden Wings or leaves whatever we may care Those limbs with the birds only trees will share