A Quote by John Townsend Trowbridge
"The birds can fly, an' why can't I? Must we give in," says he, with a grin, "'T the blackbird an' phoebe are smarter 'n we be? Jest fold our hands, an' see the swaller An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler? ... Jest show me that! er prove 't that bat Hez got more brains thans's in my hat, An' I'll back down, an' not till then!"
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The birds can fly, an' why can't I? Must we give in, says he with a grin, That the bluebird an' phoebe are smarter 'n we be?
How sweet the harmonies of the afternoon!
The Blackbird sings along the sunny breeze
His ancient song of leaves, and summer boon;
Rich breath of hayfields streams thro' whispering trees;
And birds of morning trim their bustling wings,
And listen fondly--while the Blackbird sings.
I marched back then - I was in a civil-rights musical, Fly Blackbird, and we met Martin Luther King.
A marciful Providunce fashioned us holler O' purpose thet we might our principles swaller.
The Irish always jest even though they jest with tears.
It annoys me that the burden of proof is on us. It should be "You came up with the idea. Why do you believe it?" I could tell you I've got superpowers. But I can't go up to people saying "Prove I can't fly." They'd go: "What do you mean 'Prove you can't fly'? Prove you can!"
The river is moving. The blackbird must be flying.
If you see voters as rational, you'll be a terrible politician. People are not wired to be rational. Our brains simply evolved to keep us alive. Brains did not evolve to give us truth. Brains merely give us movies in our minds that keeps us sane and motivated. But none of it is rational or true, except maybe sometimes by coincidence.
The nightingale has a lyre of gold, The lark's is a clarion call, And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute, But I love him best of all. For his song is all the joy of life, And we in the mad spring weather, We two have listened till he sang Our hearts and lips together.
Patience is more than endurance. A saint's life is in the hands of God like a bow and arrow in the hands of an archer. God is aiming at something the saint cannot see, and He stretches and strains, and every now and again the saint says--'I cannot stand anymore.' God does not heed, He goes on stretching till His purpose is in sight, then He lets fly. Trust yourself in God's hands. Maintain your relationship to Jesus Christ by the patience of faith. 'Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.
In spring more mortal singers than belong
To any one place cover us with song.
Thrush, bluebird, blackbird, sparrow, and robin throng.
If you must mount the gallows, give a jest to the crowd, a coin the hangman, and make the drop with a smile on your lips.
I am usually a fun-loving person, and I say most of the things in a jest. Sometimes I get in trouble, but over a period of time, I think people now realise that most of the things I say are in jest.
Let us never adopt the maxim, Rather lose our friend than our jest.
When I was 15, I decided to take up the sport seriously, so I went down to the Y.M.C.A. My first day there, this little Italian guy beat my brains out. I decided to quit. Then I realized I really wanted to be a fighter. I worked at it, went back, and that little Italian guy didn't beat me up no more.
Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
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