The thing with the feathers...

Hope is the thing with feathers,

that perches in the soul,

and sings the tune without the words,
and never stops at all.

And sweetest in the Gale is heard,
and sore must be the storm
that could abash the little bird

that kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
and on the strangest sea,

yet never in extremity,

it asked a crumb of me.

I blame angles like you...

No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our soul, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called someone of substance - people who are kind and generous and who know what it means to live like there is no life at all. And it is through all our sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we came here to acquire and which will make us more like those who have already left and proved that despite everything, our ability to exist is such a wonderful thing.

Hold on to each other...

Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it. You must make a mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it. For once you lose hold of it, the journey back can be tiresome if not impossible. It hinges on your desire to obtain what once was, instead of searching for newer, more meaningful connections. It can lead you astray with its tantalising inconsistencies - what once felt happy, now uproots the feeling of burden and regret. What once held promise is now spent and wasted. So fight for it - hold on for dear life, because it might never again be as magical.