A chattering crow lives out nine generations of aged men, — Phoenix

"Now I will believe That there are unicorns; that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix throne, one phoenix At this hour reigning there."

"First in the ranks see Joan of Arc advance, The scourge of England and the boast of France! Though burnt by wicked Bedford for a witch, Behold her statue placd in glorys niche; Her fetters burst, and just releasd from prison, A virgin phoenix from her ashes risen."

"There is another holy bird, called the Phoenix, which I have never seen but in pictures. He rarely appears in Egypt — only once in every 500 years, so they say, in Heliopolis — and he is supposed to come when his father dies. If the painter describes him truly, his plumage is part golden and part red, and he is very like an eagle in shape and size. They say that this bird comes from Arabia, bringing the body of his father embalmed in myrrh to the temple of the sun, and there he buries him. First he molds an egg of myrrh; then he puts his father in the middle of it. Lastly, he covers up the body with myrrh. This is what they say this bird does. But I do not believe them."

"Ask me no more if east or west The Phoenix builds her spicy nest; For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies."

"Hurry! We burn For Rome’s so near us, for the phoenix moment When we have thrown off this traveller’s trance And mother-naked and ageless-ancient Wake in her warm nest of renaissance."

"The facts in my head, theyre so jumbled up … I dont know anymore whats real and what isnt — what actually happened … whats a lie. But it doesnt matter. Because the clutter doesnt affect my emotional realities — perhaps, in turn, because the Phoenix by nature responds better to feelings than rationality. I know who I am — who I care for, who I dont — thats what matters. The rest I can take or leave."