He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust;He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust. He danced along the dingy days, And this bequest of wings Was but a book. What liberty loosened spirit brings!

— Emily Dickinson

He disposes Doom who hath suffered him.

— Emily Dickinson

Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a "Diver" - Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest, Her heart is fit for home-I- a Sparrow-build there Sweet of twigs and twine My perennial nest.

— Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul...

— Emily Dickinson

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

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops at all.

— Emily Dickinson

Hope” is the thing with feathers -That perches in the soul -And sings the tune without the words -And never stops - at all -And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -And sore must be the storm -That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm -I’ve heard it in the chillest land -And on the strangest Sea -Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.

— Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard;And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea;Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

— Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without words and never stops at all.

— Emily Dickinson

'Hope' is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without words And never stops - at all.

— Emily Dickinson