"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"Love can do all but raise the Dead I doubt if even that From such a giant were withheld Were flesh equivalent But love is tired and must sleep, And hungry and must graze And so abets the shining Fleet Till it is out of gaze."
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Source: Emily Dickinson, Ted Hughes (2011). “Emily Dickinson”, p.52, Faber & Faber
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