Phoenix Bird Rising From The Ashes Quotes

Bird of the sky still bound to the earth, soaring to unimaginable heights yet returning to perch in the willow. Death is near, always near and so...is life even in the ashes. Rise Up Phoenix. Live. Fly. Create!

It’s crucial to be able to gather enough inner strength to rise up from the ashes like the Phoenix Bird, when it’s necessary.

The notebook had been a gift from his mother. A reward, she had said, for doing well in his test at school. On the cover was a Phoenix. “It’s a bird,” she had told him with a smile. “They never die. Not properly. They rise from the ashes of their old lives and start a new one.

I was graduating in two months, but I wasn't to Pitzer, that was for sure. I was the old child, the past that had to burned away, so my mother, the phoenix, could emerge once again, a golden bird rising from the ash.

They say that near the end of its life, a Phoenix builds a nest of twigs, and then ignites it; both, the nest and the bird burn until merely ashes are left, from which a new, young phoenix arises, reborn to live again. No, some Phoenixes don't rise again, they are fated to burn in their own hell till infinity

Now, I got to do the inventing. I got to do the creating. A new life, my new life, would rise from the ashes of this one, like a phoenix of sorts, a great bird arising from the detritus of an old life that no longer worked.

I’m Phoenix. The mythical bird that rises from the ashes. I’ve risen from fear and grief, from scandal and suffering, and from the crushing loneliness of walking with a purpose that is outside myself, but not within me. I know what’s within me now, and I’m ready to fly again.

When all seems lost, the phoenix burns. The cycle of birth begins anew. A new bird rises, stronger and brighter. From the ashes of loss, hope returns.

The same way she rose from the sea, you rise like a phoenix from the ashes of things that no longer serve you. You mythic bird. You unbelievable thing.

It rises again, the frenzied smoke as the phoenix rises from the ashes shadows of dreams on the hills a melange of memories She speaks in unheard words poignant with meanings deep another bird of silence caws as the breeze swirls and spins My grandmother told me stories about the mountains and the lakes I saw the rainbows of hope swaying to the music as the daffodils of joy to the rain The opalescent sky looks melancholy as the clouds of Alzheimer's hover her life perhaps she has not forgotten everything I hope the moon tells her about me I keep searching for my footsteps now smudged in the sands of time like the proverbial breeze that drifts but never gets to stay a while Gazing at old photographs, I keep the memories treasured and vaulted a boulevard of thatched moments a promenade of myriad stories!

Darling,,, you are my phoenix bird... life tries to crush you many times... And you fight every time and rises again and again .... Become more powerful and wiser... it needs the courage to rise from ashes... It needs the courage to shine again gracefully. But just like a phoenix bird you burn yourself and rise from ashes...

If I’ve shifted anything, it’s only because you, Mama, and Nai Nai lent me your strength.” As Mulan out a long breath, a spark leapt from one of the incense sticks. As it floated downward, it seemed inexplicably to multiply, over and over until there were hundreds of sparks floating in the air of the temple. “Baba,” Mulan whispered. The sparks rearranged themselves, clustering, expanding, and re-forming, until they became a dragon that soared through the air. Next to it, a fiery bird flapped its wings. They cavorted together, chasing each other in dizzying circles, until, suddenly, they scattered again into ash. The glowing sparks floated slowly to the ground and winked out one by one.

mythical phoenix bird who remains awake through the fires of change, rises from the ashes of death, and is reborn into his most vibrant and enlightened self.

Then his attention was caught by the bird of paradise. "So that's what that looks like?" he asked. "Like one of the paper cranes we had to burn after Pearl Harbor." He took a step closer. "That fiery orange blossom - damned if it doesn't look like a phoenix rising from the ashes." Ruth understood, at last, what the crane flower had represented to her mother. It wasn't Hawai'i, as much as she had loved Hawai'i. It wasn't good fortune; and it wasn't longevity. No, not even that. It was rebirth.