Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all. – Emily Dickinson
After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs. – Emily Dickinson
The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on. – Emily Dickinson
I am going to learn to make bread tomorrow. So if you may imagine me with my sleeves rolled up, mixing flour, milk, saleratus, etc., with a deal of grace. I advise you if you dont know how to make the staff of life to learn with dispatch. – Emily Dickinson