"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"Heavenly Father - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us seem to us More respectful - We are Dust - We apologize to thee For thine own Duplicity."
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Source: Emily Dickinson, Ralph William Franklin (1999). “The Poems of Emily Dickinson”, p.561, Harvard University Press
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