Emily Dickinson

Hope is a strange invention-- A Patent of the Heart-- In unremitting action Yet never wearing out.

Hope is a strange invention-- A Patent of the Heart-- In unremitting action Yet never wearing out.

A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.

A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.

The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
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The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.

His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
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His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!