#bird

He's waiting for yu, young queen.' Shocked, I stared at Seoras. 'Heath?' The Warrior's look was wise and understanding - his voice gentle. 'Aye, yur Heath probably does await you somewhere in the future, but it is of your Guardian I speak. ↗

— P.C. Cast

#future #guardian #heath-luck #heaven #house

For a life oriented to leisure is in the end a life oriented to death – the greatest leisure of all. ↗

— Ann Lamott

#death #leisure #work #death

She snatched at the dream that had comforted her for so long. It was faded and thin, like a letter too often read. ↗

— Elizabeth George Speare

#elizabeth-george-speare #witch-of-blackbird-pond #dreams

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. ↗

— Maya Angelou

#cage #freedom #poetry #dreams

Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn: It listens, listens. Taller trees beyond Listen. The moon at the unruffled pond Stares. And you sing, you sing. That star-enchanted song falls through the air From lawn to lawn down terraces of sound, Darts in white arrows on the shadowed ground; And all the night you sing. My dreams are flowers to which you are a bee As all night long I listen, and my brain Receives your song, then loses it again In moonlight on the lawn. Now is your voice a marble high and white, Then like a mist on fields of paradise, Now is a raging fire, then is like ice, Then breaks, and it is dawn. ↗

— Harold Monro

#nightingales #song #dreams

He regarded Huginn as only slightly more dangerous than most pets, in that he understood why people had pets but harbored the paranoia they would one day eat their owners. True, it kept Eliot from even having a pet larger than his fist, but it also kept him from being kibble. ↗

— Thomm Quackenbush

#cats #dogs #paranoia #pets #dreams

Yeah, I got the instructions straight from Seoras. That and a bunch of smart-ass comments about my education being sadly lacking and something about not knowing my arse from my ear or my elbow, and also something about me being a fanny, and I don't know what the hell that means." "Fanny? Like a girl's name?" "I don't think so . . . ↗

— P.C. Cast

#house-of-night #stark #zoey-redbird #education

The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing. ↗

— Eric Berne

#birds #boy #concerned #hear #jay

I’ve only been to jail a few times, but in several different countries, at that. No, I've only been to jail a few times. But I still claim the ability to write a "serious" novel. ↗

— Roman Payne

#growth #hard-times #hardship #jail #jailbird

LONG LIVE... This country is but a wish of the spirit, a counter-sepulcher. In my country, tender proofs of spring and badly dressed birds are preferred to far-off goals. Truth waits for dawn beside a candle. Window glass is neglected. To the watchful, what does it matter? In my country, we don't question a man deeply moved. There is no malignant shadow on the capsized boat. A cool hello is unknown in my country. We borrow only what can be returned increased. There are leaves, many leaves, on the trees in my country. The branches are free to bear no fruits. We don't believe in the good faith of the victor. In my country, we say thank you. ↗

— René Char

#counter-sepulcher #madness #spirit #the-dawn-breakers #trees