Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the words without the tune, and never stops at all.
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Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul. And sings the tune Without the words, and never stops at all.
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Hope is a thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without words And never stops at all.
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all
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....Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wing; for he did not know what to do, he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He had been persecuted and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder-tree bent down its bows into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright. He would never became vain or conceited, and would always remembered how it felt to be despised and teased, and he was very sorry for all the creatures who are so treated merely because they are different from those around them. Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart,
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Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul. And sings the tune Without the words, and never stops at all.
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We are living in a day of self-seeking and irresponsibility, even in Christian circles. Few indeed are the Christian believers who have truly laid their all on the altar for Christ. Few are the spiritual leaders who truly put God FIRST . Rather they think first, albeit subconsciously, of their positions, popularity, salaries and the success of the organizations over which they preside. While professing strong allegiance to God and His Word, they are nevertheless careful not to emphasize those passages from the Word which might ruffle feathers or rock the boat, as we say. In spite of their professed fidelity to God's Word and will, their first objective is actually to keep their organizations running smoothly and pleasantly so that they may continue to grow in numbers. This has become a way of life in Christendom, but in this matter too we should 'search the Scriptures daily,' to determine whether these things have God's approval, for however good and right a thing may seem, if it is at variance with the Word, rightly divided, it is contrary to the will of God and therefore wrong.
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I am tearing the feathers out of the pillows, waiting, waiting for Daddy to come home...
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Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.
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Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, it is, for that reason, to be of no account?
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Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without words
And never stops at all.
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Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all.
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Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul.
And sings the tune
Without the words,
and never stops at all.
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Animals live by ethics! (1) A flock of wild geese had settled to rest on a pond. One of the flock is captured by a gardener who had clipped its wings. When the geese started to resume their flight, this one tried frantically, but vainly, to lift itself into the air. The others, observing its struggles, flew about in obvious efforts to encourage it, but no use. The entire flock then settled back on the pond and waited, even though the urge to go on was strong, for several days, until the damaged feathers grew sufficiently to permit the goose to fly. (2) A friend who owned a small cafe and used to throw crumbs for the sparrows, noticed that one was injured and had difficulty getting about. But he was interested to discover that the other sparrows would leave the crumbs which lay nearest their crippled comrade so that he could get his share, undisturbed.'
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Conundrum: Coat with fur, hat with feathers, Lobster boiled alive, Shoes occur in sundry leathers. How many animals have died, Hunted, trapped and crucified, That I may dwell at ease? Fish and fowl and beast... Slaughtered that I may feast. And what my caste, and who am I That I may live and they must die???'
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I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.
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I saw deep in the eyes of the animals the human soul look out upon me. I saw where it was born deep down under feathers and fur, or condemned for a while to roam four-footed among the brambles I caught the clinging mute glance of the prisoner and swore that I would be faithful.
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We have enslaved the rest of the animal creation, and have treated our distant cousins in fur and feathers so badly that beyond doubt, if they were able to formulate a religion, they would depict the Devil in human form.
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A peacock who rests on its feathers is just another turkey.
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If the creatures with fur/feathers/fins are our brothers in a lower stage of development then their very weakness and inability to protest, demands that man should refrain from torturing them for the mere possibility of obtaining some knowledge which he believes may be to his own interest.
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Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.
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The art of taxation consists in so plucking the goose as to obtain the largest possible amount of feathers with the smallest amount of hissing.
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In the world of birds, ruffled feathers is one sign of a virus. Isnt that also the case at work or home? Infected birds shed the virus by exhaling and excreting. Humans do it through gossip and anger. Both are contagious. Dont be a carrier!
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It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds.
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A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead.
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Hope is the thing with feathers -- that perches in the soul -- and sings the tune without words -- and never stops, at all.
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.
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These growing feathers plucked from Caesar's wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,...
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Man is a two-legged animal without feathers.
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