The Wild Swans Quotes

Fairy tales are about trouble, about getting into and out of it, and trouble seems to be a necessary stage on the route to becoming. All the magic and glass mountains and pearls the size of houses and princesses beautiful as the day and talking birds and part-time serpents are distractions from the core of most of the stories, the struggle to survive against adversaries, to find your place in the world, and to come into your own.

Fairy tales are almost always the stories of the powerless, of youngest sons, abandoned children, orphans, of humans transformed into birds and beasts or otherwise enchanted away from their own lives and selves. Even princesses are chattels to be disowned by fathers, punished by step-mothers, or claimed by princes, though they often assert themselves in between and are rarely as passive as the cartoon versions. Fairy tales are children's stories not in wh they were made for but in their focus on the early stages of life, when others have power over you and you have power over no one.

In them, power is rarely the right tool for survival anyway. Rather the powerless thrive on alliances, often in the form of reciprocated acts of kindness -- from beehives that were not raided, birds that were not killed but set free or fed, old women who were saluted with respect. Kindness sewn among the meek is harvested in crisis...

In Hans Christian Andersen's retelling of the old Nordic tale that begins with a stepmother, "The Wild Sw ~ Rebecca Solnit

FRANK: Do you know Yeats?
RITA: The wine lodge?
FRANK: No, WB Yeats, the poet.
RITA: No.
FRANK: Well, in his poem 'The Wild Swans At Coole',Yeats rhymes the word "swan" with the word "stone". You see? That's an example of assonance.
RITA: Yeah, means getting the rhyme wrong. ~ Willy Russell

The Wild Swans at Coole
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine and fifty swans.


The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold,
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes, when I awake some day
To find they have flown away ~ W.B. Yeats

One day in May, the whiteness in Milo's brain turns into that of a flock of Canadian geese that fills the entire sky. Pan to the young man staring up at them. Clinging to his arm is a pert and pretty, dark-haired girl by the name of Viviane, also looking up. Their mouths are open in amazement. Milo recites a few lines from "The Wild Swans at Coole." De trees are in deir autumn beauty, De woodland paths are dry, Under de October twilight de water Mirrors a still sky; Upon de brimming water among de stones Are nine-and-fifty swans. Viviane looks at him adoringly. "Sounds beautiful!" she says. "Who's it by?" "Yeats." "Never heard of him. ~ Nancy Huston

There was once a poor shoemaker who had three fine strong sons and two pretty daughters and a third who could do nothing well, who shivered plates and tangled her spinning, who curdled milk, could not get butter to come, nor set a fire so that smoke did not pour into the room, a useless, hopeless, dreaming daughter, to whom her mother would often say that she should try to fend for herself in the wild wood, and then she would know the value of listening to advice, and of doing things properly. And this filled the perverse daughter with a great desire to go even a little way into the wild wood, where there were no plates and no stitching, but might well be a need of such things as she knew she had it in herself to perform ... ~ A.S. Byatt

He's shirtless. Again. He's not sweaty or dirty or anything. He's just all bear skin and well-defined muscles. An there's something so sexy about the way his jeans hang on his hips. I can even see those little dents at the bottom of his stomach. If I'm being honest, I really just want to walk right over to him and touch them. With my tongue. ~ M. Leighton

I think rappers are the fall guy because some of us don't have the wits to point the finger back. The thing is when you take a whole generation and whip them out, string the mothers out and put the fathers in jail - the reason I know respect is because my father is the mediator between me and my grandfather. I'm the mediator between my son and my father because I'm old enough to understand where my father is coming from and young enough to understand what my kid is trying to do. When you whip out the mediator the kids run wild and the old people are scared of them. ~ Nelly

There she is," he said.

I scanned the room for Mason's current love interest. "Where?"

"Pink top, brown ponytail."

"She's cute. But a little too innocent for your taste."

"Looks can be deceiving." He grinned.

"How did a girl like me end up with a man-whore like you for a best friend?"

"I'm the one who should be asking how a guy like me ended up with a prude like you."

"Hey, I'm not a prude. Well, at least I don't think I am. Who knows?"

"I already volunteered my services. Telling you, once you're devirginized you're gonna go wild. Might as well get it out of the way."

I hushed him and looked around. "Someone will hear you."

"A guy who likes sex and a girl who's a virgin. Yeah, that's something no one's ever seen before." He shrugged. "I'm just trying to do you a favor."

I laughed. "Your thoughtfulness amazes me."

"No-strings-attached sex is very generous. You laugh now but one day you'll come around."

"No thanks. I know where you've been."

"Good point." He glanced back at the girl. "And you know where I'm going."

I rolled my eyes. "Go. It's fine."

"That's okay. I'll find her later. I promised not to abandon you."

"Go. Seriously. I'm fine. I'll practice blending in with the walls."

"Now I really can't leave you." He shifted his weight and stared at me.

"It was a joke. Any ~ Renita Pizzitola

Grief is wild like the sea, but it doesn't need to destroy us. We can't conquer it, but we can navigate it, and we can find Jesus there too. ~ Adriel Booker

War unhinges society, disturbs its peaceful and regular industry, and scatters poisonous seeds of disease and immorality, which continue to germinate and diffuse their baneful influence long after it has ceased. Dazzling by its glitter, pomp and pageantry, it begets a spirit of wild adventure and romantic enterprise, and often disqualifies those who embark in it, after their return from the bloody fields of battle, from engaging in the industrious and peaceful vocations of life. ~ Henry Clay

Truth? Sometimes I question every last thing I'm doing.
Truth? Right now, those questions swirl every damn day.
Is this also true for you?
Still, we keep moving forward, you and I. We try new things. We doggedly keep on doing the old things because though they may not have worked in the past it doesn't feel like crazy to continue, it feels like the space of trusting some wild sort of knowing. We love, good and hard. We show up for life. In the midst of depression, insanely messy houses, and bank accounts sliding closer and closer to that fine red line, and panic attacks, and kids who won't listen but who damn well know how to question and love.
And we make stuff. My god, the way we keep on making stuff. Because we can and we have to. Because it's the only damn thing that feels right when everything else feels a hundred kinds of wrong. We create. Defiant and determined and true. Weary hearts brought to blazing life if only for those wild moments we dance with the muse. ~ Jeanette LeBlanc

I made a discovery. It was cold enough to make my eyes water, and I found out that If I kept them almost closed, the moisture diffused the lights, so that everything - the Moon, the stars, the street lamp - seemed to have halos and points of scattered light around it. The snow-banks seemed to glitter like a sea of spun sugar, and all the stars were woven together by a lace of incandescence, so that I was walking through a Universe so wild, so wonderful that my heart nearly broke with its beauty.

"For years, I carried that time and place in mind. It's still there. But the thing is, the Universe didn't make it. I did. I saw it, but I saw it because I made myself see it. I took the stars, which are distant suns, and the night, which is the Earth's shadow, and the snow, which is water undergoing a state-change, and I took the tears in my eyes, and I made a wonderland. No one else has ever been able to see it. No one else has ever been able to go there. Not even I can ever return to it physically, it lies thirty-eight years in the past, in the eye-level perspective of a child, its stereoscopic accuracy based on the separation between the eyes of a child. In only one place does it actually exist. In my mind Elizabeth - in my life.

"But I will die, and where will it be, then?"

Elizabeth looked up at him. "In mind mind a little? Along with the rest of you?"

Hawks looked at her. He reached out and, bending forward as tenderly as a child rece ~ Algis Budrys

I like the wild characters. I like the idea of being a character actor without being a character actor. ~ Britt Robertson

The elevator doors had barely shut before Olivia's fingers were at the buckle of the belt cinching the waist of her trench dress. Drunk on his nearness, she ignored the security camera in the ceiling. It didn't mean a damn thing. Hell, who was she kidding? She was the wild Sweet triplet, the one voted most likely to do anything, and all she wanted to do right now was Mateo. ~ Avery Flynn

I left something behind in the heat and the vastness of this continent, and I was reborn as something I knew I had always been: a wanderess. ~ Meara O'Hara

It always puzzled me how some of the people who think killing and eating animals in the wild is somehow cruel have no problem buying dead animals at the grocery store, wrapped in cellophane instead of fur. ~ Sarah Palin

Seafood is simply a socially acceptable form of bush meat. We condemn Africans for hunting monkeys and mammalian and bird species from the jungle yet the developed world thinks nothing of hauling in magnificent wild creatures like swordfish, tuna, halibut, shark, and salmon for our meals. The fact is that the global slaughter of marine wildlife is simply the largest massacre of wildlife on the planet. ~ Paul Watson

We all have a soul purpose. I can't be everything that the world needs, even if i dabble between all the crafts that shape me. I can be the expressive queen i am though, crumbling all the comfort zones this world has tried to build around me; to stop the evolution of my spirit. One day i am a calm breeze, the next i am a wild hurricaine - i am so deeply passionate, you'll feel me without a single hello. ~ Nikki Rowe

If you were picky about who you worked with in the Wild North, you'd be quickly left with no one to choose. You could try to pick the best of them, but you'd have to dig them up first. ~ Dean F. Wilson

The artist at her best - wild, passionate, rebellious, and human - is often too large and truthful a creature for society's taste. The artist at her most outlandish - profane, eccentric, even a little mad - is at least as disquieting a figure. ~ Eric Maisel

The surf was out of control and wild. The wind was powerful. So powerful it was hard to stand up. But I felt free. So damn free. It was beyond euphoric. It was practically cathartic. Spiritual. I remember so clearly the feeling of that wind sweeping off the Pacific, assaulting my face with brine and secrets from the deep. I closed my eyes, held my arms back like I was going to fly. The sun beat down on me, birds flew close to shore. I'd never felt so in tune and connected with the world before. ~ Karina Halle

You have dirty hands and dark wild eyes, but by far you are the purest heart I have ever known. ~ Melody Lee

It is a great evil to look upon mankind with too clear vision. You seem to be living among wild beasts, and you become a wild beast yourself. (""The Story of Prince Alasi and the Princess Firouzkah") ~ William Beckford

When Daniel Boone goes by at night
The phantom deer arise
And all lost, wild America
Is burning in their eyes. ~ Stephen Vincent Benet

It
learns quickly what sort of courtship it is going to be.
Say you promise to be at your desk in the evenings, from
seven to nine. It waits, it watches. If you are reliably
there, it begins to show itself - soon it begins to arrive
when you do. But if you are only there sometimes and
are frequently late or inattentive, it will appear fleetingly,
or it will not appear at all.
Why should it? It can wait. It can stay silent a lifetime.
Who knows anyway what it is, that wild, silky part
of ourselves without which no poem can live? ~ Mary Oliver

As I went out one evening to take the evening air
I was blessed by a blood-red moon
In Lincoln Park the dark was turning
I spied a fair young maiden and a flame was in her eye
And on her face lay the steel blue skies
Of Lincoln Park, the dark was turning
Turning

They spread their sheets upon the ground just like a wandering tribe
And the wise men walked in their Robespierre robes
Through Lincoln Park the dark was turning
The towers trapped and trembling, and the boats were tossed about
When the fog rolled in and the gas rolled out
From Lincoln Park the dark was turning
Turning

Like wild horses freed at last we took the streets of wine
But I searched in vain for she stayed behind
In Lincoln Park the dark was turning
I'll go back to the city where I can be alone
And tell my friend she lies in stone
In Lincoln Park the dark was turning ~ Phil Ochs

Exercise, not philosophically and with religious gravity undertaken, but with the wild and romping activities of a spirited girl who runs up and down as if her veins were full of wine. ~ Lola Montez

Sometimes I get lonesome for a storm. A full blown storm where everything changes. The sky goes through four days in an hour, the trees wail, little animals skitter in the mud and everything gets dark and goes completely wild. But it is really God - playing music in his favourite cathedral in heaven - shattering stained glass - playing a gigantic organ - thundering on the keys - perfect harmony - perfect joy. ~ Joan Baez

Wild animals would not stay in a country where there were so many people. Pa did not like to stay, either. He liked a country where the wild animals lived without being afraid. ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder

Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June's long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You've seen the refugees heading nowhere,
You've heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the gray feathers a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns. ~ Adam Zagajewski

It is clear that the books owned the shop rather than the other way about. Everywhere they had run wild and taken possession of their habitat, breeding and multiplying, and clearly lacking any strong hand to keep them down. ~ Agatha Christie

Sure, you can choose the safety and predictability of the cage, forfeiting the adventure God has destined for you. But you won't be the only one missing out or losing out. When you lack the courage to chase the Wild Goose, the opportunity costs are staggering. Who might not hear about the love of God if you don't seize the opportunity to tell them? Who might be stuck in poverty, stuck in ignorance, stuck in pain if you're not there to help free them? Where might the advance of God's kingdom in the world stall out because you weren't there on the front lines? ~ Mark Batterson

Destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected. Look there, Sancho Panza, my friend, and see those thirty or so wild giants, with whom I intend to do battle and kill each and all of them, so with their stolen booty we can begin to enrich ourselves. This is nobel, righteous warfare, for it is wonderfully useful to God to have such an evil race wiped from the face of the earth."
"What giants?" Asked Sancho Panza.
"The ones you can see over there," answered his master, "with the huge arms, some of which are very nearly two leagues long."
"Now look, your grace," said Sancho, "what you see over there aren't giants, but windmills, and what seems to be arms are just their sails, that go around in the wind and turn the millstone."
"Obviously," replied Don Quijote, "you don't know much about adventures. ~ Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra

A rule for success in today's wild new economic world is this: use the most innovative technologies to deliver the most primal products and services. ~ Martha N. Beck

But [Everett] and McCandless, at least they tried to follow their dream. That's what was great about them. They tried. Not many do. ~ Jon Krakauer

Books are everywhere; and always the same sense of adventure fills us. Second-hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack. Besides, in this random miscellaneous company we may rub against some complete stranger who will, with luck, turn into the best friend we have in the world. ~ Virginia Woolf

The wild Bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing,
Now in a lily cup, and now
Setting a jacinth bell a-swing,
In his wandering. ~ Oscar Wilde