Maxioms by Emily Dickinson
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.
Anger as soon as fed is dead — 'Tis starving makes it fat.
Anger as soon as fed is dead — 'Tis starving makes it fat.
The pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee;
A clover, any time, to him
read more
The pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee;
A clover, any time, to him
Is aristocracy.
And so upon this wise I prayed,--
Great Spirit, give to me
A heaven not so large read more
And so upon this wise I prayed,--
Great Spirit, give to me
A heaven not so large as yours
But large enough for me.
