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]
--<@Nabilah Mhd Fauzi
--<@23 years old
--<@Coventry
--<@Current student at the University of Warwick in B ED TESL
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interests: terry pratchett, neil gaiman, novels, fiction, star wars, star craft, neko, koneko, japanese, travelling, writing and writing. Profile layout by Miserable & Stunning Designs |
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