When God made the oyster, he guaranteed his absolute economic and social security. He built the oyster a house, his shell, to shelter and protect him from his enemies... But when God made the Eagle, He declared, "The blue sky is the limit—build your own house!"… The Eagle, not the oyster, is the emblem of America.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;And like a thunderbolt he falls.
The eagle suffers little birds to sing,And is not careful what they mean thereby.
And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he for ever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than other birds upon the plain, even though they soar.
The chief is the chief. He is the eagle who flies high and cannot be touched by the spit of the toad.
And thus among these rocks he lived,And Rob was lord below.
Whether it be the sweeping eagle in his flight, or the open apple-blossom, the toiling work-horse, the blithe swan, the branching oak, the winding stream at its base, the drifting clouds, over all the coursing sun, form ever follows function, and this is the law. Where function does not change form does not change.
Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat.
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.
Yet spirit immortal, the tomb can not bind thee, A name which before thee no mortal hath won.
The haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle's own plumes.We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.
So in the Libyan fable it is toldAre we now smitten."
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain,And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.
Like a young eagle, who has lent his plumeWhich rank corruption destines for their heart.
That eagle's fate and mine are one,Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
Let them make their war. How is it not seen?
Tho' he inheritThro' the azure deep of air.
King of the peak and glacier, The eagle of the Alps.
Wheresoever the carcass is, there will the eagles be gathered together.
The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aery tour,Two birds of gayest plume before him drove.
Bird of the broad and sweeping wing,And the tempest clouds are driven.
And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'dThere vanish'd in the sunbeams.
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,Leaving no track behind.
Around, around, in ceaseless circles wheelingWith clangs of wings and scream, the Eagle sailed
Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens?But he not less the eagle.