The Bird (n.) seems to fly far away after God, but heaven stays closed to it; the Christian finds God, and finds him on earth.
The Bird (n.) is like one cipher standing alone; a person who has become himself counts for more than ten.
The Bird (n.) is held aloft by the air inside it; the worldly great man has emptiness inside, so his height is imaginary; the believer has faith inside and soars over the abyss.
The Bird (n.) lives from hand to mouth, but has a still shorter way from thought to execution, from resolution to the act, hence its inexplicable sureness.
The Bird (n.) travels faster than the railway: it flies for many days and arrives on the same day it left, for it lives only one day.
The Bird (n.) rests in infinite space, where no rest seems possible, and finds its mysterious way through the air, where no way seems possible.
The Bird (n.) whose nest is wrecked morning after morning starts again each day with the same eagerness, understanding absolutely one thing: that this is its work.