"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still... I can feel a sunshine stealing into my soul and making it all summer, and every thorn, a rose."
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Source: Emily Dickinson, Thomas Herbert Johnson, Theodora Ward (1986). “The Letters of Emily Dickinson”, p.201, Harvard University Press
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