"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"Some Arrows slay but whom they strike - But this slew all but him - Who so appareled his Escape - Too trackless for a Tomb"
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Source: Emily Dickinson, Ralph William Franklin (1999). “The Poems of Emily Dickinson”, p.602, Harvard University Press
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