Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.The Soul selects her own Society - Then - shuts the Door - To her divine Majority - Present no more -Tell the truth, but tell it slant.The brain is wider than the sky.After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.Forever is composed of nows.I'm Nobody Who are you? Are you -- Nobody -- too? Then there's a pair of us? Don't tell they'd advertise -- you know A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day.
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