"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea Past the houses, past the headlands Into deep eternity! Bred as we, among the mountains Can the sailor understand The divine intoxication Of the first league out from land?"
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Source: Emily Dickinson, Ralph William Franklin (1999). “The Poems of Emily Dickinson”, p.72, Harvard University Press
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