““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 springs eternal in the human breast; - Man never Is, but always to be blest. - The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home - Rests and expatiates in a life to come.” - Alexander Pope // “You do not have to be good. - You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. - You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. - Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. - Meanwhile the world goes on. - Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. - Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. - Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, - calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - over and over announcing your place - in the family of things.” - Mary Oliver //