You need eagles wings to get over things that make no sense in this world.
And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
There's a lust in man, no charm can tame, of loudly publishing our neighbor's shame.
You can put wings on a pig, but you don't make it an eagle.
Eagles are seagulls with a good hairdo.
Fool that I was, upon my eagle's wings I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring, and now he mounts above me.
Great men are like eagles, and build their nest on some lofty solitude.
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.
September 11, 2001: Citizens of the U.S., besieged by terror’s sting, rose up, weeping glory, as if on eagles’ wings.--from the poem Angel of Remembrance: Candles for September 11, 2001
It is a confession that we do not have such a prodigious head as is required to answer the question what is happening, that we cannot get on top of what is happening, that we are stuck in the middle of it, in medias res, inter-esse, amazing and bewildered. We cannot soar over what is happening with philosophy's eagle-wings. What's happening has clipped our wings.
Fame has eagle wings, and yet she mounts not so high as man's desires.
The ignorant hath an Eagles wings, and an Owles eyes. [The ignorant hath an eagle's wings and an owl's eyes.]
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