Emily Dickinson Quotes
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Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye It bears the Soul as bold As it were rocked in Steel With Arms of Steel at either side— It joins—behind the Veil To what, could We presume The Bridge would cease to be To Our far, vacillating Feet A first Necessity.
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Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.
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Fortune befriends the bold.
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If you take care of the small things, the big things take care of themselves. You can gain more control over your life by paying closer attention to the little things.
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The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
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I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -The Stillness in the RoomWas like the Stillness in the Air -Between the Heaves of Storm -
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I reason, earth is short, And anguish absolute. And many hurt; But what of that?I reason, we could die: The best vitality Cannot excel decay; But what of that?I reason that in heaven Somehow, it will be even, Some new equation given; But what of that?
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The face we choose to miss, Be it but for a day- As absent as a hundred years When it has rode away.
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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
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Success is counted sweetest by those who never succeed.
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Our journey had advanced; Our feet were almost come To that odd fork in Being’s road, Eternity by term.Our pace took sudden awe, Our feet reluctant led. Before were cities, but between, The forest of the dead.Retreat was out of hope,- Behind, a sealed route, Eternity’s white flag before, And God at every gate.
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Memory is a strange Bell—Jubilee, and Knell.
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If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.
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Prayer is the little implement through which men reach; where presence is denied them.
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Heart, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim; Haste! lest while you’re lagging, I may remember him!
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The sweets of Pillage can be known To no one but the Thief, Compassion for Integrity Is his divinest Grief.
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What fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot- The opening of a Door.
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The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
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The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.
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The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.
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A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came,A Wisdom, without Face, or Name,A Peace, as Hemispheres at HomeAnd so the Night became.
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We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies.
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Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie, The Day that a companion came- Or was obliged to die.
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To possess is past the instant; we achieve the joy, immortality contented, were anomaly.