““We may talk what we please,” he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, “of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles”

As for being much known by sight, and pointed out, I cannot comprehend the honor that lies withal; whatsoever it be, every mountebank has it more than the best doctor.

The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government

I might be master at last of a small house and a large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life to the culture of them and the study of nature.

Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill; ‘Tis fill’d wherever thou dost tread, Nature’s self’s thy Ganymede.

Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!

When Harvey’s violent passion she did see, Began to tremble and to flee; Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree

Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.

God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.

The world’s a scene of changes.

And I myself a Catholic will be, So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee. Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestow On us, the Poets militant below.

Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.

Thus would I double my life’s fading space;For he that runs it well, runs twice his race.

Man is too near all kinds of beasts,–a fawning dog, a roaring lion, a thieving fox, a robbing wolf, a dissembling crocodile, a treacherous decoy, and a rapacious vulture.

I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that

The motions strait, and round, and swift, and slow, And short and long, were mixt and woven so, Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall, As made this decent measur’d dance of all. And this is Musick.

All the world’s bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.

Lately I’ve heard rumors that the eagle may be lame. Just because I’ve been idle, don’t mean that I’m tame.

The caged eagle become a metaphor for all forms of isolation, the ultimate in imprisonment. A zoo is prison.

If you want to fly with the eagles, don’t swim with the ducks!

God is more eager to answer than we are to ask.

Shoot eagles on the Jack Nicklaus course, Porsche with the triple exhaust, Seats soft like a midget’s cough.

Fool that I was, upon my eagle’s wings I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring, and now he mounts above me.

September 11, 2001: Citizens of the U.S., besieged by terror’s sting, rose up, weeping glory, as if on eagles’ wings.–from the poem Angel of Remembrance: Candles for September 11, 2001

I was born by God’s dear grace, in an extraordinary place. Where the stars and stripes, and the eagle fly.