#feather

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. ↗

— William Ralph Inge

#animal #badly #beyond #cousins #creation

A friend of mine has a big farm in the desert, and she picks up feathers and roadkill for me, then makes it into clothes. I think it's cool to wear roadkill. If I died and somebody wanted to wear my teeth around their neck to VMAs, I'd feel honored. ↗

— Kesha

#big #clothes #cool #desert #died

Oh, God, I would give anything to change the past,” he gasped. “To make it so that the last thing you saw was not me walking away from you. In your memories I am forever one and twenty, and cocky, and sneering, and looking self-righteous. And I’ve changed, Beth,” he gasped, choking on a sob he could not hide. “I want so damn much for you to see how I’ve changed. To see me now. There are no lies in my eyes. No motives other than to show you that I am not the callous man I was. And that I love you…. I love you so damn much.” He was crying. The tears trickled unchecked down his cheeks, dripping onto his lips. She touched them, wiped them away, which only caused them to spill faster and harder. ↗

— Charlotte Featherstone

#iain #temptation-and-twilight #change

My mother might find a thin gold chain at the back of a drawer, wadded into an impossibly tight knot, and give it to me to untangle. It would have a shiny, sweaty smell, and excite me: Gold chains linked you to the great fairy tales and myths, to Arabia, and India; to the great weight of the world, but lighter than a feather. ↗

— Anne Lamott

#back #chain #chains #drawer #excite

Anger can kill, even a feather gently blowing in the wind. ↗

— Anthony Liccione

#feather #anger

As I said, you have mistaken me for another. London is full of drab little peahens, sir. Now, then, I’m leaving,” she said in a huff. “To change?” he asked, unable to stop from goading her. “To write a poem for my toast,” she snapped. “And you may suffer, for I will not help you with yours.” “No need, darling,” Matthew drawled, his words intending to push her away. “I doubt you know a suitable word that will rhyme with fuck. ” “Stuck,” she said, turning to face him. “For two days, my lord. We are stuck with one another. Let us make the best of it.” “And how do you propose we do that?” “By giving each other wide berth. We will not stand together, we will not talk to one another and we will most certainly not look at one another.” “No problem from this quarter.” “Good. You may be assured that it will be no difficulty for me, either.” -Matthew and Jane ↗

— Charlotte Featherstone

#jane #matthew #sinful #change

I’ve often thought of becoming a professional hat designer. I’d make hats with many feathers, hats that wake you up in the morning, hats that lay eggs, and, most importantly, hats that can be eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#dinner #feathers #funny-hats #lunch #strange

As he looked around the huge ducal bed, he saw everything that meant the world to him. Outside the sky was darkening and the snow was falling. Through misty eyes, Matthew looked up, saw the moon glowing brilliantly and whispered, “thank you.” It was simple, but heartfelt. Never had a man been more grateful than that very moment when everything was utter perfection. With his family and his wife pressed up against him. ↗

— Charlotte Featherstone

#matthew #sinful-epilogue #family

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. ↗

— Giambattista Valli

#bouquets #design #else #feathers #flowers

A feather when viewed separately may seem like only a feather, But when seen through the eyes of truth it is a sacred instrument that lifts a bird in flight. ↗

— Molly Friedenfeld

#feather #inspiration #inspirational #instrument #sacred-instrument