A Quote by E. O. Wilson

Let us see how high we can fly before the sun melts the wax in our wings. — © E. O. Wilson
Let us see how high we can fly before the sun melts the wax in our wings.
Well, it's like that myth about the hero. He made wings out of wax so he could fly, but when he got too close to the Sun, to God, the wax melted and he crashed to the ground.
We have entered an age where religious ideologies and nuclear technology coexist. This alone is a terrifying concept, plus the fact that humanity is like Icarus, flirting with how close we can get to the sun of technology before our wax wings melt.
Open your heart and mind like the wings of a butterfly. See then how high you CAN fly.
Gold like the sun, which melts wax, but hardens clay, expands great souls.
I’ve never been certain whether the moral of the Icarus story should only be, as is generally accepted, ‘don’t try to fly too high,’ or whether it might also be thought of as ‘forget the wax and feathers, and do a better job on the wings.
The human race is like a bird and it needs both wings to be able to fly. And, at the moment, one of is wings is clipped an we're never going to be able to fly as high.
Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, melts them.
Friends are the angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.
The mother eagle teaches her little ones to fly by making their nest so uncomfortable that they are forced to leave it and commit themselves to the unknown world of air outside. And just so does our God to us. He stirs up our comfortable nests, and pushes us over the edge of them, and we are forced to use our wings to save ourselves from fatal falling. Read your trials in this light, and see if you cannot begin to get a glimpse of their meaning. Your wings are being developed.
"Pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly"... "And if left unresolved you can almost forget that you were ever created to fly in the first place."
Why give up before we try Feel the lows before the highs Clip our wings before we fly away I can't say I came prepared I'm suspended in the air Won't you come be in the sky with me
We two remake our world by naming it / Together, knowing what words mean for us / And for the other for whom current coin / Is cold speech - but we say, the tree, the pool, / And see the fire in the air, the sun, our sun, / Anybody's sun, the world's sun, but here, now / Particularly our sun.
Most birds were created to fly. Being grounded for them is a limitation within their ability to fly, not the other way around. You, on the other hand, were created to be loved. So for you to live as if you were unloved is a limitation, not the other way around. Living unloved is like clipping a bird’s wings and removing its ability to fly. Not something I want for you. Pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly. And if left unresolved for very long, you can almost forget that you were ever created to fly in the first place.
It is when we try to grapple with another man's intimate need that we perceive how incomprehensible, wavering and misty are the beings that share with us the sight of the stars and the warmth of the sun. It is as if loneliness were a hard and absolute condition of existence; the envelope of flesh and blood on which our eyes are fixed melts before the outstretched hand, and there remains only the capricious, unconsolable and elusive spirit that no eye can follow, no hand can grasp.
Fly, on your way, like an eagle / Fly as high as the Sun.
Even great men bow before the Sun; it melts hubris into humility.
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