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.

Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
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Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
'Tis the majority
In this, as all, prevails
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur,--you're straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can read more

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Into his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

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.

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

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