"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"I died for beauty but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was lain In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed? "For beauty," I replied. "And I for truth, the two are one; We brethren are," he said. And so, as kinsmen met a night, We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names."
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Source: I died for beauty but was scarce l. 1 (ca. 1862)
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