After reading E.J. Dionne Jr.’s July 11 op-ed on despair, hope and politics, “The high cost of despair in politics,” I thought of a poem by Emily Dickinson, believed to have been written around 1861, another time of turmoil in America. It begins: “Hope is the thing with feathers / That perches in the soul, / And sings the tune without the words, / And never stops at all.”
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