Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson
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More quotes by Emily Dickinson
- Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
- To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
- Where thou art, that is home.
- Beauty is not caused. It is.
- Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.