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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.”
― Emily Dickinson

“That's the beauty of it. Have you seen the contraptions these magicians build to accomplish the most mundane feats? They are a bunch of fish covered in feathers trying to convince the public they can fly, I am simply a bird in their midst.”
― Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

“Featherweight by Suzy Kassem


One evening,
I sat by the ocean and questioned the moon about my destiny.
I revealed to it that I was beginning to feel smaller compared to others,
Because the more secrets of the universe I would unlock,
The smaller in size I became.

I didn't understand why I wasn't feeling larger instead of smaller.
I thought that seeking Truth was what was required of us all �
To show us the way, not to make us feel lost,
Up against the odds,
In a devilish game partitioned by
An invisible wall.

Then the next morning,
A bird appeared at my window, just as the sun began
Spreading its yolk over the horizon.
It remained perched for a long time,
Gazing at me intently, to make sure I knew I wasn’t dreaming.
Then its words gently echoed throughout my mind,
Telling me:

'The world you are in �
Is the true hell.
The journey to Truth itself
Is what quickens the heart to become lighter.
The lighter the heart, the purer it is.
The purer the heart, the closer to light it becomes.
And the heavier the heart,
The more chained to this hell
It will remain.'

And just like that, it flew off towards the sun,
Leaving behind a tiny feather.
So I picked it up,
And fastened it to a toothpick,
To dip into ink
And write my name.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“I was so blessed.
The first person
I gave my heart to
was an angel
who plucked the feathers
off his wings
and built a nest for it.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“The haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagles own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.”
― Aesop

“Shoving feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.”
― Brad Pitt

“How wrong Emily Dickinson was! Hope is not "the thing with feathers." The thing with feathers has turned out to be my nephew. I must take him to a specialist in Zurich.”
― Woody Allen, Without Feathers

“Soft feathers cannot make a cruel bird kind”
― Munia Khan

“A FEATHER.

A feather is trimmed, it is trimmed by the light and the bug and the post, it is trimmed by little leaning and by all sorts of mounted reserves and loud volumes. It is surely cohesive.”
― Gertrude Stein, Tender Buttons

“Silence fell like a hammer made of feathers. It left holes in the shape of the sound of the sea.”
― Terry Pratchett, Nation

“And maybe... you are a little fat bear cub with no wings, and no feathers.”
― Else Holmelund Minarik

“You know that book of poems I’m always carrying around? [...] In one of her poems, she calls hope the ‘thing with feathers,â€� and I always think about thatâ€�. Maybe when we hope for something, the hope flies off to find whatever it is we’re thinking about…and then it brings it back to us. And when there’s nothing else we can do, at least we can hope.”
― Roshani Chokshi, Aru Shah and the City of Gold

“A feather is a miraculous thing. So commonplace and every day, we barely even notice them poking out of our pillows, or caught on a gentle breeze, or bobbing along the surface of a lazy river, caught in the eddies and rushing vortexes as it’s swept downstream. But a feather is a feat of engineering. And this feather, the one that must have been slipped beneath my bedroom door, is a beautiful one to be sure.”
― Callie Hart, Riot House

“What's that sound?" Fran said.
Then something as big as a vulture flapped heavily down from one of the trees and landed just in front of the car.It shook itself.It turned its long neck toward the car, raised its head, and regarded us.

"Goddamn it," I said.I sat there with my hands on the wheel and stared at the thing.
"Can you believe it?" Fran said."I never saw a real one before."

We both knew it was a peacock, sure,but we didn't say the word out loud.We just watched it.The bird turned its head up in the air and made this harsh cry again.It had fluffed itself out and looked about twice the size it'd been when it landed.

"Goddamn," I said again. We stayed where we were in the front seat.
The bird moved forward a little.Then it turned its head to the side and braced itself.It kept its bright, wild eye right on us.Its tail was raised, and it was like a big fan folding in and out.
There was every color in the rainbow shining from that tail.

"My God," Fran said quietly.She moved her hand over to my knee.
"Goddamn," I said. There was nothing else to say.

The bird made this strange wailing sound once more. "May- awe, may-awe!" it went.If it'd been something I was hearing late at night and for the first time, I'd have thought it was somebody dying, or else something wild and dangerous.”
― Raymond Carver

“Home. She closes her eyes and thinks of a swaying meadow, dappled sunlight falling through green branches, walking among tall, leafy trees. She thinks of long, tapered feathers with eyes the color of emeralds and sapphires.”
― Hannah Richell, The Peacock Summer

“The pen, a feather plucked out of an angel's wings”
― Soroosh Shahrivar, Letter 19

“A heart fueled by passion is like riding on the back of a dragon.”
― Suzy Kassem

“Feathers fall; soft as a song, light as morning dreams.”
― Eirene Evripidou

“In the foliage
A kind token from a bird
Feather in Fall’s grass”
― Marie Helen Abramyan

“Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"
Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to feather, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

“This resembled hedgehog fur so precisely that Percy, who rarely noticed fashion, was struck momentarily speechless by the shocking similarity between this hat and his mother's Erinaceinae nature.”
― Gail Carriger, Reticence

“But in the night I slept and I dreamed of feathers in my lungs. So many I choked on them. I woke coughing and frightened and knew I had made a mistake.”
― Charlotte McConaghy, Migrations

“A bird with feathers made of fire watched over them, in a cage with bars that shone like moonlight.”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“A bird with great feathers may have nothing else! Anyone who is deceived by dazzling feathers can find themselves in a pale world!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“I met a boy and he told me a story. There was a lady long ago who spent her life coughing up feathers. And one day when she was gnarled and gray, she stretched from a woman into a black bird. From then on dusk held her in its thrall and night's great yawning mouth swallowed her whole. He told me this and then the boy kissed me with vinegar lips from the chips he was eating and I decided that this was my favorite story of all. That I wanted to be a bird when I was gray. ... After that, how could I not run away with him.”
― Charlotte McConaghy, Migrations

“Birds, unlike us, lack countenance. But they make us smile when they connecting the sky with their dazzling feathers. They amaze us with how their great feathers can find themselves in this pale world. Where the visual of them whispers, "Make your new beginning,beloved.”
― Susan Ligori

“The gallinule's candy-corn bill--- yellow at the tip, orange toward the eye---points at the waterline, and the blue and green of the feathers glint in the sunlight. I sketch the light blue cap and the oval body, hinting at its iridescence. The bird pokes her head sharply into the water, swallows, and beings to meander. She walks across floating lilies, pad to pad, and then into the reeds until I can't see her anymore, no matter how I steer the canoe. When she's gone, I look at my drawing. "Hee-hee!" I say aloud, sketching a few more quick studies to indicate her motion and the intensity of her stare, with notes on the deep iris blue of the head and breast, the aqua of the back and wings graduating to olive at the tips, and underneath an inky black.”
― Virginia Hartman, The Marsh Queen

“The wind of the world was wild, and it mocked human expectations. But it wasn't the wind that carried you. It was the flex of the wing and the spread of the feathers. It was up to you how far to fly and how to come home again.”
― Alex London, Black Wings Beating

“We round the frangipani, coming face-to-face with two peacocks---one male, with magnificent iridescent plumage sparkling in royal blues, greens, and golden browns, not to mention the circular eyespots, his crown a crest of feathers resembling a helmet. The female, although beautiful, has drabber plumage and a short tail.
Garrance beams as the large birds greet her like dogs. "Meet Yin and Yang," she says, and Juju rolls onto his back. "These two are the only ones who tolerate Juju and vice versa."
"Maybe because they don't call him names," I say with a laugh, and Garrance joins me.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“Chamomile are feathers from the wings of seraphim angels, thrown as an offering to the earth for each bird hunted in the sky.”
― Corina Abdulahm Negura