Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Winged. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Winged Quotes And Sayings by 90 Authors including Tanith Lee,Pamela L. Laskin,Plautus,Drake,Claire Williams for you to enjoy and share.
World's flying like birds; my car's in flight. The city lights are spattered on my windshield like the fragments of the night. And I'm in flight. The sky's a wheel, a merry-go-round of wings and snow and steel, and fire. We'll tread the sky, we'll ride the scarlet horses.
I have wings on the back of my shoulders,
and I'm ready to fly.
It is difficult to fly without wings.
I'm still fly, I'm sky high and I dare anybody to try and cut my wings
If you want to fly, you have to flap your own wings!
A kestrel can and does hover in the dead calm of summer days, when there is not the faintest breath of wind. He will, and does, hover in the still, soft atmosphere of early autumn, when the gossamer falls in showers, coming straight down as if it were raining silk.
White angel wings, made up from thousands of short feathers, now surrounded him.
"Uh. Bird?" She pointed dumbly, unable to form a single coherent though more.
"Harpie." He gave her a glare that could have killed.
Flight is not the astonishing thing. I have always thought that the miracle of birds is not that they fly, but that they touch down.
You've given me back my wings
Fly, Abraxos," she breathed.
Abraxos sucked in a great breath, tucked his wings in tight, and fell off the side of the post.
He liked to do that - just tumble off as though he'd been struck dead.
Her wyvern, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humor.
Wraiths! Wraiths on wings!
In the distant golden sunset sky, a magnificent rainbow is opening wings to fly.
In midair, dangling lost above the world.
You can soar with great wings far beyond the sky.
It is a dream of mankind to fly like a bird.
To hatch a crow, a black rainbow
Bent in emptiness
over emptiness
But flying
This is a low flying person
You have escaped the cage. Your wings are stretched out. Now fly.
Entranced by the flight of a raven, I watch its shadow move effortlessly against golden, shimmering granite. I long to be that free, flying above the cluttered world of normalcy, where so many are half alive.
Flight without feathers is not easy.
Above the clouds I lift my wing
To hear the bells of Heaven ring;
Some of their music, though my fights be wild,
To Earth I bring;
Then let me soar and sing!
Birds are the most accomplished aeronauts the world has ever seen. They fly high and low, at great speed, and very slowly. And always with extraordinary precision and control.
You don't need wings to fly.
Please don't take my wings...
[...]falcon-winged, falcon-mad, like an unfalling arrow, like an unforgotten thought.
Large angels take a long time unfolding their wings, but when they do, soar out of sight.
Even when the bird walks we see that it has wings.
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.
A Tribute to the Kite ...
Oh such joy what a splendor has never
been heard, of a string that would lend you the wings of a bird.
Try to clip my wings, and God's angels will carry me, because I'm destined to fly, and even you cant stop destiny.
Jump, and you will find out how to unfold your wings as you fall.
We all have an artist within us; but not all of us help him to create wings on our bodies! Those who help will know the taste of the skies!
I share my name with an aerobatic bird that can whiz across a whole summer sky in seconds. A swift is so equipped for speed that it can scarcely cope with being stationary.
Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away.
the evolutions of the bird on the wing are quite as safe and infinitely more rapid and beautiful than the movements of either the quadruped on the land or the fish in the water.
There are only two words with four letters which can make us fly: Wing and Love.
There were birds in the sky, but I never saw them winging, No I never saw them at all, Until there was you.
I watched, baffled, as Will Speckman floated like an angel, drifting down to the marina dock a hundred yards away. My mind suggested all kinds of crazy answers.
The Trinity can fly. Will Speckman is actually a bird. Gravity has taken the night off.
Don't just fly, soar.
Perfect as the wing of a bird may be, it will never enable the bird to fly if unsupported by the air. Facts are the air of science. Without them a man of science can never rise.
Vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away. Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, Till some blind hand shall brush my wing!
The simple bird has the freedom to fly anywhere, and yet here we stay
She discovered the wings she never knew she had.
In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.
Less flapping, more flying!
A butterfly has landed on a patch of milk parsley. Wings held vertically so it's not going anywhere - for the time being. Once he would have leant across and seized it. Now he'll let it fly.
A spirit cannot soar with only one wing.
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.
A power of Butterfly must be - The Aptitude to fly Meadows of Majesty concedes And easy Sweeps of Sky -
So many birds sitting around, on a dead wire, a bare branch, a cold ground, a drifting seashore; never realizing the glory in their wings and where it can take them, nor the envy as we look on them.
The wing of the Falcon brings to the king, the wing if the crow brings him to the cemetery.
Would that I had wings as well.
I battered the cordons around me
And cradled my wings on the breeze,
Then soared to the uttermost reaches
With rapture, with power, with ease!
I've always been fascinated by everything with wings.
A few feathery flakes are scattered widely through the air, and hover downward with uncertain flight, now almost alighting on the earth, now whirled again aloft into remote regions of the atmosphere.
In my raveling thoughts I flew away, as if my spirit were nestled in the breast feathers of some passing hornbill or waxwing.
Let me nurture my wings, for I was born to fly.
I am one wing and you are equally the other
His wings, all six, shed embers of incandescent grace as he skidded across the night sky. And when he opened his mouths to scream, the Earth could do naught but shudder.
How wonderful it must be, I thought, to be able to just spread your wings whenever you like without someone following you around trying to swat you out of the sky.
When the time comes, for you to own the wings forever. Never hesitate to fight and stay on the ground, with the fear of losing few feathers.
Once upon a time, the sky knew the weight of angel armies on the move, and the wind blew infernal with the fire of their wings.
O for a horse with wings!
All those golden autumn days the sky was full of wings. Wings beating low over the blue water of Silver Lake, wings beating high in the blue air far above it ... bearing them all away to the green fields in the South.
Turbulence stretches the eagle's wings.
Against the wounded sky, a lone angel circles above us. No, not an angel. Light glints off curved metal on one of the edges of his wings. They are not shaped like a bird's wings. It's a giant bat-wing shape. My heart speeds up with my need to shout out to him. Could
Sometimes I watch myself fly. For in the history of human flight it is not yet so very late; and a man may still wonder once in a while and ask: how is it that I, poor earth-habitituated animal, can fly?
Don't forget that birds with broken wings walking on the ground were once flying high up in the sky.
What need for feathers now? What need to confirm their loss? While the womb-red sky swelled with the promise of tomorrow, and he rode the warm, crimson currents, skimming, wheeling and gliding.
Flying fosters fantasies of childhood, of omnipotence, rapid shifts of being, miraculous moments; it stirs our capacity for dreaming.
He was still immersed in the dim, wet wonder of the folded wings that might open if someone loved him; he still hoped, probably, in a butterfly's unthinking way, for spring and warmth. How the wings ache, folded so, waiting; that is, they ache until they atrophy.
It has thrown off its disguise as a meal and has revealed itself to me for what it is, a large dead bird. I'm eating a wing. It's the wing of a tame turkey, the stupidest bird in the world, so stupid it can't even fly any more. I am eating lost flight.
She flew like a bird, only faster.
When a dragonfly flutters by, you may not realize, but it's the greatest flier in nature. It can hover, fly backwards, even upside down.
We don't need wings to be angels
We don't need reasons to be right
Your love makes us all better
That who we really are
Angels and heroes at heart
The fundamental magic of flying, a miracle that has nothing to do with any of its practical purposes - purposes of speed, accessibility, and convenience - and will not change as they change.
If you don't jump, the wings never come.
I am a butterfly drunk with life. I don't know where to soar, but I won't allow life to clip my beautiful wings.
My dreams have been filled with shadows and wings - the booming of wings soaring between mountain passes.
Teach me how to fly, my beautiful butterfly.
Can I look at my feet now?" "No. A bird never looks at its wings while it's flying. If it did, it would realize it's doing something utterly impossible, and fall to the ground.
Not an angel of the air,
Bird melodious or bird fair,
Be absent hence!
When she was living one of her fantasies she felt like a bird, the freedom of its wings letting her soar without earthly boundaries, enabling her to look on to her vividly imagined scenes from a great height.
What are you doing to me?" he asked the crow, tearful. Teaching you how to fly. "I can't fly!" You're flying right now. "I'm falling!" Every flight begins with a fall, the crow said.
What's that as flies without wings, your ladyship? Time! Time!
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.
What wings are to a bird, and sails to a ship, so is prayer to the soul.
Birds in flight, claims the architect Vincenzo Volentieri, are not between places - they carry their places with them. We never wonder where they live: they are at home in the sky, in flight. Flight is their way of being in the world.
I may never fly - in the bird sort of way. But I do have wings.
Shamans wear bird costumes and they fly. Somehow they experience flying.
There was a time in Africa the people could fly. Mauma told me this one night when I was ten years old. She said, Handful, your granny-mauma saw it for herself. She say they flew over trees and clouds. She say they flew like blackbirds. When we came here, we left that magic behind.
It is beautiful to discover our wings and learn how to fly; flight is a beautiful process. But then to rest on the wings of God as He flies: this is divine.
Even when a bird walks, one feels it has wings.
The bird Imagination, That flies so far, that dies so soon; Her wings are colored like the sun, Her breast is colored like the moon.
You don't need wings to fly, she chirped.
What do you need, Daughter? I asked softly.
She looked up at me, her big, black eyes alight with knowledge, and she smiled.
Words.
Summer skylarks Dart about the heavens Above the deep mountains.
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings
That fill the sky with silver glitterings!
butterflies were wind energy made visible.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren