one last thing,

I found this poem by Emily Dickinson. It might just be my favorite piece of poetry I've seen in my life.

Hope is the Thing with Feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers
The 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
The could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
-Emily Dickinson

I love this. Love love love love love love love love love loveeeee!