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.

Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate.

Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate.

Beauty is not caused. It is.

Beauty is not caused. It is.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition
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Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break agonized and clear.

Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.

Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.