"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you."
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Source: Emily Dickinson, Thomas Herbert Johnson, Theodora Ward (1986). “The Letters of Emily Dickinson”, p.99, Harvard University Press
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