Bald Eagle Quotes

I wish the bald eagle had not been chosen as the representative of our country; he is a bird of bad moral character; like those among men who live by sharping and robbing, he is generally poor, and often very lousy. The turkey is a much more respectable bird, and withal a true original native of America. ~ Benjamin Franklin

Emer was troubled at how all interpretation now devolved in matters of race or gender or religion. There was no art anymore, even in children's stories. Why wasn't the crow female? Why was The Creator a He? Wasn't Bald Eagle insensitive to men with hair loss? This is how we spend our time now. ~ David Duchovny

It's a great event to get outside and enjoy nature. I find it very exciting no matter how many times I see bald eagles. ~ Karen Armstrong

I saw that I had forgotten how beautiful the drive to Thunder Bay was; the towering sighing groves of fragrant Norway pines, the broad expanses of clean white sand, the sea gulls, always the endlessly wheeling sea gulls; an occasional bald eagle seeming bent on soaring straight up to heaven; the intermittent craggy and pine-clad granite or sandstone hills, sometimes rising gauntly to the dignity of small mountains, then again, sudden stretches of sand or more majestic Norway pines -- and always, of course, the vast glittering heaving lake, the world's largest inland sea, as treacherous and deceitful as a spurned woman, either caressing or raging at the shore, more often turbulent than not, but today on its best company manners, presenting the falsely placid aspect of a mill pond. ~ Robert Traver

Lord if this would be the right thing for Joannie and I, that I would see a bald eagle right here as confirmation from you that this will be a good thing for us. ~ Michael Richard Stosic

I am on this account not displeased that the Figure is not known as a Bald Eagle, but looks more like a Turkey. For the Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true original Native of America ... He is besides, though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on. ~ Benjamin Franklin

If I were an animal, I'd probably be a bald eagle, since I'm already bald and I love to fish. But I'd probably be a shaky-ass eagle because I'm afraid of flying. ~ Steve Harvey

New Scientist magazine reported that in the future, cars could be powered by hazelnuts. That's encouraging, considering an eight-ounce jar of hazelnuts costs about nine dollars. Yeah, I've got an idea for a car that runs on bald eagle heads and Faberge eggs. ~ Jimmy Fallon

College students, couples, people covered with eagle tattoos, boat captains, white-haired folks - we were all singing, waiting especially for the chorus ~ Peter Jenkins

The owner of the Post Office was called Maurice. A sixtyish-year-old with a large red nose that was pebble-dashed with broken capillaries, and a smooth bald head with a fuzz of grey hair around the side like the tide mark on a dirty bath. He had a gruff manner, distrusting eyes and a cough like kicked gravel. ~ R.D. Ronald

Basically, they had asked me if I would shave my head or wear a bald cap. I said look, if you are doing a series for five years I would want to shave my hair because I would go bald with all the gum and glue from the bald cap. ~ Persis Khambatta

I used to butcher my Barbies. I would draw hearts on their cheeks. I would give them haircuts and I would keep going because it would be uneven and they would be left bald ~ Natalie

I took Eugene Sue's Arthur from the reading-room. It's indescribable, enough to make you vomit. You have to read this to realize the pitifulness of money, success, and the public. Literature has become consumptive. It spits and slobbers, covers its blisters with salve and sticking-plaster, and has grown bald from too much hair-slicking. It would take Christ of art to cure this leper. ~ Gustave Flaubert

If I were an animal, I would be an eagle. ~ Jamie Foxx

The Biblical account describing God as an eagle teaching his eaglets to fly is exactly the process readers go through as they work through the chapters of this book. "Like an eagle that stirs up its nest and hovers over its young, that spreads its wings to catch them and carries them on its pinions." Deut. 32:11 ~ Beth Willis Miller

Failure gives the bald hairs; equips the novice with experience. The learner, sooner or later, becomes a teacher by it. ~ Ogwo David Emenike

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald,
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us something worth knowing,
Bring us back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot ... ~ J.K. Rowling

From a nearby doorway, a sweaty, shirtless man with a bald head emerged carrying a large copper pot. He unceremoniously cast the pot's contents, the bony remains of several stewed animals, into the street. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

TWENTY-NINE We Are Falafel-Jacked by an Eagle ~ Rick Riordan

These sculptors consituteted a new movement, he claimed. Not for them the bald abstraction of their predecessors. Their creations were rooted in a postwar world of broken buildings and broken people. Their language was one of terror and trepidation. They tore into the human form, flaying it, tearing it limb from limb, discarding what they didn't want. And when they were done, they found themselves presenting to the world an army of creatures - part man, part beast, and sometimes part machine. As one of Harry's teachers at Corsham had said to him: 'When you've seen the inside of a Sherman tank after a direct hit, it all becomes the same thing. ~ Mark Mills

Today You Soar
Like the grand eagle, you spread your wings
And put forth the effort to do great things.
Looking skyward you dared to challenge the wind,
Harnessing power to help you ascend.
With an eye on the goal, fixed in flight,
You climbed to an impressive height.
Undaunted by gusts and unkind gails,
You never gave up and would not fail.
So now you've reached where few even try
As the eagle high in a glorious sky.
Not superior, but grand.
Not proud, but sure.
Not a cub, wolf, or bear but an eagle pure.
Today you soar. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Thou art an eagle, thou doest belong to the sky and not to the earth, stretch forth thy wings and fly. ~ Paul H. Dunn

Twelve pillars of the castle of time will bear. Twelve creatures rule land and sea. The eagle is ready to soar in the air, Five's the foundation and also the key. In the Circle of Twelve, Number Twelve becomes Two. The hawk hatches seventh, yet Three is the clue. ~ Kerstin Gier

My first figure was a SLAYER eagle. And the dragons and the tribals are all I have got. ~ Kerry King

Every time it starts to get cool, I mean in the middle of autim, I start gettin nutty ideas like I was thinkin about what was forein and diffrent, like for exsample how I'd like to turn into a swallow and get away and fly to countrys where it gets hot, or be an ant so's I could get deep into a cave and eat the stuff I stored away durin the summer or be a snake like what they got in the zoO, the ones they keep lockt up in glass cages thats heated so's they don't get stiff from the cold, which is what happens to poor human beans who cant buy no close cause the price is to high, and cant keep warm cause theys no keroseen, no coal, no wood, no fule oil and besides theys no loot, cause when you go around with bocoo bread you can go into any bar and get some sneaky pete that can be real warmin, even tho it aint good to overdo it cause if you overdos it it gets to be a bad habbit and bad habbits is bad for your body just like they is for youre selfrespeck, and when you start goin downhill cause your actin bad in everythin, they aint nobody or nothin can stop you from endin up a stinkin piece of human garbidge and they never gone give you a hand to haul you up outen the dirty muck you rollin around in, not even if you was a eaglE when you was young and could fly up and over the highest hills, but when you get old you like a highflyin bomber thats lost its moral engines and fall down outen the sky. I jes hope what I been writin down hear do somebody some good so he take a good look at ~ Julio Cortazar

The sleeping draught began to take effect. Idita blew out the candles on the table. Just the torchlight from the courtyard shone into the room. "You will heal, Mauro," she promised.
He lay down on the cot and looked up at her through half-closed eyes. He knew she did not mean his arm. "I know I will. ~ Jillian Bald

And this love of definite conception, this clearness of vision, this artistic sense of limit, is the characteristic of all great work and poetry; of the vision of Homer as of the vision of Dante, of Keats and William Morris as of Chaucer and Theocritus. It lies at the base of all noble, realistic and romantic work as opposed to the colourless and empty abstractions of our own eighteenth-century poets and of the classical dramatists of France, or of the vague spiritualities of the German sentimental school: opposed, too, to that spirit of transcendentalism which also was root and flower itself of the great Revolution, underlying the impassioned contemplation of Wordsworth and giving wings and fire to the eagle- like flight of Shelley, and which in the sphere of philosophy, though displaced by the materialism and positiveness of our day, bequeathed two great schools of thought, the school of Newman to Oxford, the school of Emerson to America. Yet is this spirit of transcendentalism alien to the spirit of art. For the artist can accept no sphere of life in exchange for life itself. For him there is no escape from the bondage of the earth: there is not even the desire of escape. He is indeed the only true realist: symbolism, which is the essence of the transcendental spirit, is alien to him. The metaphysical mind of Asia will create for itself the monstrous, many-breasted idol of Ephesus, but to the Greek, pure artist, that work is most instinct with spiritual life which conforms ~ Oscar Wilde

Love Letter"

Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn't just tow me an inch, no-
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.

That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter-
Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chisled
Cheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn't convince me. Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.

And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.

Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Sylvia Plath

I had this dream about you last night. We were still married. I was giving you a haircut, like I always did, being careful to trim around the scar on the back of your head. I'm sorry I sometimes forgot it and left you with a bald spot. And, I'm sorry we didn't work out. But you look pretty happy on Instagram. ~ Crystal Woods

Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens? If all the world were falcons, what of that? The wonder of the eagle were the less, But he not less the eagle. ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

In days of yore, the poet's pen From wing of bird was plunder'd, Perhaps of goose, but now and then, From Jove's own eagle sunder'd. But now, metallic pens disclose Alone the poet's numbers; In iron inspiration glows, Or with the poet slumbers. ~ John Adams

Remember that your tracks are one strand of the web woven endlessly in the hand of god. They're tied to those of the mouse in the field, the eagle on the mountain, the crab in its hold, the lizard beneath its rock. The leaf that falls to the ground a thousand miles away touches your life. The impress of your foot in the soil is felt through a thousand generations. ~ Daniel Quinn

A parrot's gift is to talk; an eagle's gift is to fly. I'd rather be an eagle. ~ Matshona Dhliwayo

That baby is small,' observed the bald guy, who sat to the right of Jamie.

He nodded, thinking, small but lethal. ~ Judith Arnold

When day begins to break I count my blessings, good and bad, Being wakeful for your sake, Remembering the covenant we've always had, What eagle look your face still shows, While up from my heart's root So great a sweetness flows I shake from head to foot. ~ P.C. Cast

eagle chicks left in the same nest would soon come to vicious fighting. ~ Dan Jones

Noah turned to face his younger sister, arching one brow to a fairly smug height. Lenga lifted a brow back at him, giving him a delicate smattering of applause.
"And I was afraid you would never learn the art of diplomacy," she remarked, her lips twitching with her humor. "It merely took you the entire two and a half centuries of my life. Longer, actually. You had a few centuries' head start."
"Funny how you seem to recall the fact that I am far older than you only when it suits your arguments, my sister," he taunted her, reaching to tug on her hair as he had been doing since her childhood.
"Well, I can say with all honesty that this is the first time I have ever seen you forgo a good argument with Hannah, opting for peace instead. I was beginning to wonder if you were my brother at all. Perhaps some imposter . . ."
"Legna, be careful. You are speaking words of treason," he teased her, tugging her hair once more, making her turn around to swat at his hand.
"I don't know how you convinced the entire Council that you were mature enough to be King, Noah! You are such a child!" She twisted her body so he couldn't grab at her hair again. "And I swear, if you pull my hair once more like some sort of schoolyard bully, I am going to put you to sleep and shave you bald!"
Noah immediately raised his hands in acquiescence, laughing as Legna flushed in exasperation. For all her grace and ladylike ways, Noah's little sister was quite capable of making good on ~ Jacquelyn Frank

My veins are filled, once a week with a Neapolitan carpet cleaner distilled from the Adriatic and I am as bald as an egg. However I still get around and am mean to cats. ~ John Cheever

Who wants to be a twenty-five-year-old fat, moody, moon-faced, blind, brittle-boned diabetic with no immune system if there is any other possible way to deal with the situation? I was single. Can't you just see that match.com ad? Bloated, anemic, moody, bald, pale female seeks--anyone. Anyone! (pg 73.) ~ Carla Ulbrich

Go all the way to Sun Alliance to Chancery Lane, only to be told that they wouldn't insure my new house because of my profession. "Actors ... and writers ... well, you know."
..I couldn't help feeling something of a reject from society as I walked out again into Chancery Lane ... my solicitor cheerfully informs me that several big companies, including Eagle Star won't touch actors. The happy and slightly absurd ending to this story is that I finally find a willing insurer in the National Farmers' Union at Huntingdon. ~ Michael Palin

Here is the last thing, and a shameful admission it is. When the all-father in eagle form had almost reached the vats, with Suttung immediately behind him, Odin blew some of the mead out of his behind, a splatter wet fart of foul-smelling mead right in Suttung's face, blinding the giant and throwing him off Odin's trail.

No one, then or now, wanted to drink the mead that came out of Odin's ass. But whenever you hear bad poets declaiming their bad poetry, filled with foolish similes and ugly rhymes, you will know which of the meads the have tasted. ~ Neil Gaiman

Do I have an original thought in my head? My bald head. Maybe if I were happier, my hair wouldn't be falling out.
Life is short. I need to make the most of it. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I'm a walking cliché.
I really need to go to the doctor and have my leg checked. There's something wrong. A bump. The dentist called again. I'm way overdue. If I stop putting things off, I would be happier. All I do is sit on my fat ass. If my ass wasn't fat I would be happier. I wouldn't have to wear these shirts with the tails out all the time. Like that's fooling anyone. Fat ass.
I should start jogging again. Five miles a day. Really do it this time. Maybe rock climbing. I need to turn my life around. What do I need to do? I need to fall in love. I need to have a girlfriend. I need to read more, improve myself. What if I learned Russian or something? Or took up an instrument? I could speak Chinese. I'd be the screenwriter who speaks Chinese and plays the oboe. That would be cool.
I should get my hair cut short. Stop trying to fool myself and everyone else into thinking I have a full head of hair. How pathetic is that?
Just be real. Confident. Isn't that what women are attracted to? Men don't have to be attractive. But that's not true. Especially these days. Almost as much pressure on men as there is on women these days.
Why should I be made to feel I have to apologize for my existence? Maybe it's my brain chemistry. Maybe that's what's wron ~ Charlie Kaufman

Tutankhamun Speaks:
Inside my mask of gold, lapis,
turquoise and amber,
my naked body breaks its bondage
and soars like an eagle towards
the golden Sun of rejuvenation ~ Ramon Ravenswood

with a goofy-looking bald baby on the cover. Dad disappeared ~ Gayle Forman

You ought not to be rude to an eagle, when you are only the size of a hobbit, and are up in his eyrie at night! ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

Life is like a bad haircut. At first it looks awful, then you kind of get used to it, and before you know it, it it grows out and you gotta get another haircut that maybe won't be so bad, unless of course you keep going to SuperClips, where the hairstylists are so terrible they oughta be using safety scissors, and when they're done you look like your head got caught in a ceiling fan. So life goes on, good haircut, bad haircut, until finally you go bald, and it don't matter no more.
I told this wisdom to my mother, and she said I oughta put it in a book, then burn it. Some people just can't appreciate the profound. ~ Neal Shusterman

I like to quote the verse, "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength." I kind of envision me skiing and God is kind of like an eagle right next to me screeching in my ear that everything is going to be all good. I just try my best and that's all I can ask for. ~ Nick Goepper

Here we have a baby. It is composed of a bald head and a pair of lungs. ~ Eugene Field

Nobody is really happy with what's on their head. People with straight hair want curly, people with curly want straight, and bald people want everyone to be blind. ~ Rita Rudner

Across the San Joaquin valley, across California, across the entire nation, wherever there are injustices against men and women and children who work in the fields - there you will see our flags - with the black eagle with the white and red background, flying. Our movement is spreading like flames across a dry plain. ~ Cesar Chavez

Once I loved life ad the sun was a golden joy. But joy is sometimes short lived, priest. And when it dies, a man will seek inside himself and ask: Why? Why hate is so much stronger than love? Why the wicked reap such rich rewards? Why do strenght and speed count for more than morality and kindness? And then the man realizes...there are no answers. None. And for the sake of his sanity the man must change perceptions. Once I was a lamb, playing in a green field. Then the wolves came. Now I am a eagle, and I fly in a different universe.'
'And now you kill the lambs', whispered Dardalion.
Waylander chuckled and turned over.
'No, priest. No one pays for lambs ~ David Gemmell