"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"Then, as horizons step, Or noons report away,Without the formula of sound, It passes, and we stay:A quality of loss Affecting our content."
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Source: Emily Dickinson (1998). “The Poems of Emily Dickinson”, p.613, Harvard University Press
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