"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity Nor had I time to love: but since Some industry must be, The little toil of love, I thought, Was large enough for me."
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Source: Emily Dickinson (2016). “The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson”, p.19, First Avenue Editions
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