A Quote by William Shakespeare

When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. — © William Shakespeare
When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
I am a creative artist. I have the ability to radiate. Lifting my arms above me, I soar above the earth. Lowering my arms, I continue to soar. In the air moving around my head and shoulders, I experience the power of thoughts. In the air moving around my chest, I experience the power of feelings. In the air moving around my legs and feet, I experience the power of will. I am that
The heaviest of burdens is simultaneously an image of life's most intense fullfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into new heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?
The child is born speaking the languages of birds; the child has horns and scales and wings; it has a beak; it has a cloven hoof. He is the sum of all creatures: the ones that swim, the ones that soar, the ones that leap, the ones that maze the earth with burrows.
What delight To back the flying steed, that challenges The wind for speed! - seems native more of air Than earth! - whose burden only lends him fire! - Whose soul, in his task, turns labour into sport; Who makes your pastime his! I sit him now! He takes away my breath! He makes me reel! I touch not earth - I see not - hear not. All Is ecstasy of motion!
One time you smash a bug with no mercy. Another time you find one helpless on his back with his legs flailing the air, and you flip him over and let him go on his way. The struggle that touches the heart.
The life of an Indian is like the wings of the air. That is why you notice the hawk knows how to get his prey. The Indian is like that. The hawk swoops down on its prey, so does the Indian. In his lament he is like an animal. For instance, the coyote is sly, so is the Indian. The eagle is the same. That is why the Indian is always feathered up, he is a relative to the wings of the air.
I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches and every word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions and him entirely and all together.
Who can justly say aught against Joseph Smith? I was as well acquainted with him, as any man. I do not believe that his father and mother knew him any better than I did. I do not think that a man lives on the earth that knew him any better than I did; and I am bold to say that, Jesus Christ excepted, no better man ever lived or does live upon this earth. I am his witness
No issue is more compelling than the air we breathe, be it hot or cold, be it hawk or human.
Hermes scarf designers can be found in places from Poland to Japan, not to mention the U.S. post-office sorting room in Waco, Texas. Kermit Oliver, a longtime postal employee, has designed more than a dozen Hermes scarves.
The earth is a machine which yields almost gratuitous service to every application of intellect. Every plant is a manufacturer of soil. In the stomach of the plant development begins. The tree can draw on the whole air, the whole earth, on all the rolling main. The plant is all suction-pipe,--imbibing from the ground by its root, from the air by its leaves, with all its might.
I am no more proud of my career as an athlete than I am of the fact that I am a direct descendant of that noble warrior [Chief Black Hawk].
The fish in the water is silent, the animals on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing. But man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.
You were made to soar, to crash to earth, then to rise and soar again.
The air is like a butterfly With frail blue wings. The happy earth looks at the sky And sings.
Every child has his own beauty, her own talents. Ikarus Jackson can fly through the air; I want kids to find their own set of wings and soar with him.
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