Maxioms by Emily Dickinson
I must go in, the fog is rising.
I must go in, the fog is rising.
Anger as soon as fed is dead — 'Tis starving makes it fat.
Anger as soon as fed is dead — 'Tis starving makes it fat.
Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops read more
Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all.
"Hope" is the thing with feathers- That perches in the soul- And sings the tunes without the words- And never read more
"Hope" is the thing with feathers- That perches in the soul- And sings the tunes without the words- And never stops- at all- .
