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Emily Dickinson speaks best for me with her poem
"Hope is the thing with feathers."
#254 ("'Hope' is the thing with feathers –")
by 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.
:)
Peace brotherdoobie
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It gets billions of people out of bed every day. :)
