"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"To see her is a picture- To hear her is a tune- To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June- To know her not-Affliction- To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the the Sun Were shining in your Hand."
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Source: Emily Dickinson, Thomas Herbert Johnson, Theodora Ward (1986). “The Letters of Emily Dickinson”, p.761, Harvard University Press
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