"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!"
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Source: Emily Dickinson, Helen Vendler (2010). “Dickinson”, p.93, Harvard University Press
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