White Wings Quotes

#1. Hurry, oh peaceful Death, and carry me from these multitudes who left me in the dark corner of oblivion because I do not bleed the weak as they do. Come, oh gentle Death, and enfold me under your white wings, for my fellowmen are not in want of me. Embrace

Kahlil Gibran

#2. If you can call it talking, these clipped whispers, projected through the funnels of our white wings. It's more like a telegram, a verbal semaphore. Amputated speech.

Margaret Atwood

#3. Girls have white wings. The wings with which to protect their loved ones. I'm going to embrace you with those wings.

Kaori Yuki

#4. The albatross' big feet and its great white wings are the same thing.

Giles Deleuze

#5. What am I going to do? I take a deep breath. My arms rise slightly - as if recalling the black-and-white wings Cinna gave me - then come to rest at my sides. I'm going to be the Mockingjay.

Suzanne Collins

#6. You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.

Kahlil Gibran

#7. Lucinda's wings had been special. They
had been purely, stunningly white. Unspoiled.
Innocent of the choices the rest of
them had made. The only other fallen angel
who had preserved his white wings was
Daniel.

Lauren Kate

#8. the one of insane geometries, of orange lightning, of fire that rained from trees like leaves falling, of the birds rising from the water their impossibly pure white wings spreading across the burning sky. As

Douglas Clegg

#9. In this dim world of clouding cares,
We rarely know, till wildered eyes
See white wings lessening up the skies,
The angels with us unawares.

Gerald Massey

#10. Visions flashed through her mind. A fluttering of white wings. A burning arrow. Stained glass under her feet.

Tiffany Reisz

#11. His little black-and-white cat with the black-and-white wings would fly through the rooms sometimes, but most often it would be discovered sleeping somewhere where it was most inconvenient for it to sleep. And

Michael Moorcock

#12. Shiroyama's heart stops. The earth's pulse beats against his ear.
An inch away is a go clamshell stone, perfect and smooth ...
... a black butterfly lands on the white stone, and unfolds its wings.

David Mitchell

#13. She saw Luke, standing atop a pile of bones. Jace with white feathered wings sprouting out of his back, Isabelle sitting naked with her whip curled around her like a net of gold rings, Simon with crosses burned into the palms of his hands. Angels, falling and burning. Falling out of the sky.

Cassandra Clare

#14. My mama told me don't trust no white boy, even a pretty one. I'm thinkin' a pretty white boy with wings explodin' up from the ground in a mess of blood and ugly-ass bird things is double trouble. - Kramisha (Ch 5)

P.C. Cast

#15. If I was a supervillain, I'd create this universal, cosmic rule where every time an old, shitty, right-wing white man says something unsavory about a young woman, he would just get the clap immediately.

Jack Antonoff

#16. 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.

Constance Sharper

#17. The white man has settled like a locust over Africa, and, like the locusts in early morning, cannot take flight for the heaviness of the dew on their wings. But the dew that weights the white man is the money that he makes from our labor.

Doris Lessing

#18. Books bombarded his shoulders, his arms, his upturned face. A book lit, almost obediently, like a white pigeon, in his hands, wings fluttering.

Ray Bradbury

#19. Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.

John Keats

#20. Then bless thy secret growth, nor catch At noise, but thrive unseen and dumb; Keep clean, be as fruit, earn life, and watch, Till the white-wing'd reapers come.

Francis Bacon

#21. Fame, if not double fac'd, is double mouth'd, And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds; On both his wings, one black, the other white, Bears greatest names in his wild aery flight.

John Milton

#22. Even after she was gone, he passed her place each day:
something white in a high window - not a face,
but the white belly of a pigeon beating its wings
against the pane in the boarded-up house.

Zoe Brigley

#23. The blankets had fallen off and I stared down at her white back, the shoulder blades sticking out as if they wanted to grow into wings, poke through that skin. Little blades. She was helpless.

Charles Bukowski

#24. Pain has been and grief enough and bitterness and crying,
Sharp ways and stony ways I think it was she trod;
But all there is to see now is a white bird flying,
Whose blood-stained wings go circling high - circling up to God!

Margaret Widdemer

#25. The snow-white angel alone remains, hovering over Tara Burgess's fresh grave, holding a single black rose in one hand. She does not move, does not even bat an eyelash. Her powdered face stays frozen in sorrow. The increasing rain pulls stray feathers from her wings and pins them to the mud below.

Erin Morgenstern

#26. I have forgiven all the old actors for dying.
A new one comes on with the same lines,
like large white growths, in his mouth.
The dancers come on from the wings,
perfectly mated.

Anne Sexton

#27. There were nearly as many frogs in the shallows, where lily pads floated. Some water lily flowers were white and some were yellow and some were the palest pink. Dragonflies darted above the water, their iridescent wings catching the glint of the sunlight.

Alice Hoffman

#28. A corner draft fluttered the flame And the white fever of temptation Upswept its angel wings that cast A cruciform shadow.

Boris Pasternak

#29. The bookcase tipped and the book covers opened like wings over an underbelly of white feathers, dirty with ink.

Anthony Marra

#30. Day is a snow-white Dove of heaven That from the East glad message brings. Night is a stealthy, evil Raven, Wrapped to the eyes in his black wings.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich

#31. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that's when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings. Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay.

Suzanne Collins

#32. The swallow is come! The swallow is come! O, fair are the seasons, and light Are the days that she brings, With her dusky wings, And her bosom snowy white!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

#33. (1) Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. (2) Wild geese that flew with the moon on their wings. (3) Bright copper kettles. (4) Doorbells and sleighbells and schnitzel with noodles.

Arundhati Roy

#34. A white feather drops at my feet, and I know you're guiding me to where I'm meant to be - Angel Wings

Marie Symeou

#35. Oh God, Mae," said Jamie in a hollow voice, descending the stairs. "I will never drink again. I'm only seeing in black and white. My arms feel all floppy, like flightless wings. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I looked like a very sad penguin.

Sarah Rees Brennan

#36. Yellow is my favorite, but what is yellow? Handmaiden to white, it is a slight tarnish of pure light. Take away a bit of whites absolute luminosity, and what remains is yellow
sunlike, golden as a crown, buttercups in a field, marsh marigolds, a finch's wing, a plastic flute.

Richard Grossinger

#37. What babe new born is this that in a manger cries? Near on her lowly bed his happy mother lies. Oh, see the air is shaken with white and heavenly wings
This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the King of Kings.

Richard Watson Gilder

#38. Be the prettiest book I ever seen. The cover is pale blue, color a the sky. And a big white bird - a peace dove - spreads its wings from end to end.

Kathryn Stockett

#39. The twilight is sad and cloudy, The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea-birds Flash the white caps of the sea.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

#40. The Eagle does not escape the storm. The Eagle simply uses the storm to lift it higher. It spreads its mighty wings and rises on the winds that bring the storm.

Jack White

#41. O beautiful white land,
olives and wild anemone and violet
mingled among the shale,
and purple wings
of little winter-butterflies
say, here Psyche, the soul, lies.

Hilda Doolittle

#42. The wings of Time are black and white,
Pied with morning and with night.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

#43. I was actually privately in the White House like invited by Clinton to screen Independence Day, so I know how the private residence looks. I didn't snap a picture, but I have a photographic memory and then I could take a guided tour in the West Wing.

Roland Emmerich

#44. Poetry is the establishment of a metaphorical link between white butterfly-wings and the scraps of torn-up love-letters.

Carl Sandburg

#45. There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of an insect's wings. But perhaps it is because I am a savage and do not understand. The clatter only seems to insult the ears.

Chief Seattle

#46. Fire burned in her heart, and her wounded soul spread out, casting a shadow like wings across her country.

Kiersten White

#47. She told him television was a bad influence. Probably she was right. Like those white birds he's been seeing outside the window, it flashes its wings and promises whatever you want, even before you knew you wanted it.

Barbara Kingsolver

#48. The ancient house is our chrysalis, trapping us until our metamorphosis is complete: our chic city wings plucked from our backs and we'll emerge as fat, white farm larvae. Like the ones living in the corral cow pies.

Mix Hart

#49. Angels don't exist.
Flawless skin, perfect hair, flowing white robes, all topped off with an adorable set of fluffy pink wings. Yeah. If you see that wandering around, you've probably stumbled onto the set of a Victoria's Secret catalog shoot. Prepare to get your butt kicked by security.

Cecily White

#50. All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence.

Czeslaw Milosz

#51. Flower petals in the breeze look like a butterfly flapping its wings. My love for you takes flight like a white orchid blushing pink.

Jarod Kintz

#52. Words are everything. Words give wings even to those who have been stamped upon, broken beyond all hope of repair.

Samantha Shannon

#53. Come, ye cold winds, at January's call, On whistling wings, and with white flakes bestrew The earth.

John Ruskin