"Eagles commonly fly alone. They are crows, daws, and starlings that flock together"
About this Quote
Webster’s line is a neat little poison pill disguised as natural history: the noble bird doesn’t just soar higher, it refuses company. In an age obsessed with rank, lineage, and courtly proximity to power, “Eagles commonly fly alone” flatters the fantasy of the solitary great man while quietly warning what solitude costs. An eagle isn’t merely independent; it’s predatory. The image carries a chill that fits Webster’s stage world, where virtue is always suspect and grandeur often masks appetite.
Then comes the slap: it’s “crows, daws, and starlings” that “flock together.” The word choice matters. These are not romantic birds of community; they’re noisy, scavenging, imitative. Webster isn’t praising togetherness so much as diagnosing a social ecosystem: the mediocre survive by clustering, by consensus, by volume. Flocking becomes a metaphor for court factions, rumor economies, and the way reputations are made in packs. It’s also a jab at moral cowardice. A flock disperses responsibility; no single bird owns the mess.
The subtext lands on a sharper irony: the eagle’s isolation reads as purity, but it can also be arrogance, even vulnerability. A lone flier has no witnesses, no allies, no buffer against the swarm. Webster, writing in the Jacobean pressure cooker of patronage and intrigue, knows that power attracts both worship and infestation. The quote works because it offers a seductive badge of superiority while smuggling in a bleak sociology of how people actually move: not by truth, but by grouping.
Then comes the slap: it’s “crows, daws, and starlings” that “flock together.” The word choice matters. These are not romantic birds of community; they’re noisy, scavenging, imitative. Webster isn’t praising togetherness so much as diagnosing a social ecosystem: the mediocre survive by clustering, by consensus, by volume. Flocking becomes a metaphor for court factions, rumor economies, and the way reputations are made in packs. It’s also a jab at moral cowardice. A flock disperses responsibility; no single bird owns the mess.
The subtext lands on a sharper irony: the eagle’s isolation reads as purity, but it can also be arrogance, even vulnerability. A lone flier has no witnesses, no allies, no buffer against the swarm. Webster, writing in the Jacobean pressure cooker of patronage and intrigue, knows that power attracts both worship and infestation. The quote works because it offers a seductive badge of superiority while smuggling in a bleak sociology of how people actually move: not by truth, but by grouping.
Quote Details
| Topic | Wisdom |
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