With our own feathers, not by others' hands, Are we now smitten.
He had never known such gallantry as the gallantry of Scarlett O'Hara going forth to conquer the world in her mother's velvet curtains and the tail feathers of a rooster.
Hope is a thing with feathers
You can't make chicken salad out of chicken feathers
We saw the strong trees struggle and their plumes do down, The poplar bend and whip back till it split to fall, The elm tear up at the root and topple like a crown, The pine crack at the base - we had to watch them all. The ash, the lovely cedar. We had to watch them fall. They went so softly under the loud flails of air, Before that fury they went down like feathers, With all the hundred springs that flowered in their hair, and all the years, endured in all the weathers - To fall as if they were nothing, as if they were feathers.
I have made bouquets of pleats, bouquets of flowers, bouquets of ruffles, bouquets of feathers. Often I design in mousseline, held tightly around the waist, and with something else going on all around.
I am a feather for each wind that blows
A heart without dreams is like a bird without feathers.
There's in my mind a. . . turbulent moon-ridden girl or old woman, or both, dressed in opals and rags, feathers and torn taffeta, who knows strange songs but she is not kind.
We flashed our feathers when the feathers were fit to be flashed, and now, in drearier days, many stay indoors.
Feathers are light; but when they come together, they become heavy!
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.
Of course I’m shielding her, you broken feather!
When you're surrounded by feathers and sequins and ridiculous Lycra outfits, it's impossible not to have a smile on your face.
Who would guess," he teased, "that I'd ever see you on a rooftop with straw in your hair?" Kit giggled. "Are you saying I've turned into a crow?" "Not exactly. " His eyes were intensely blue with merriment. "I can still see the green feathers if I look hard enough. But they've done their best to make you into a sparrow, haven't they?
Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite, exquisite and melting her all molten inside.
Fine feathers, they say, make fine birds.
Do not conceive that fine clothes make fine men any more than fine feathers make fine birds.
Man is a two-legged animal without feathers.
A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead.