Emily Dickinson Quotes
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Behold this little Bane – The Boon of all alive – As common as it is unknown The name of it is Love.
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I cannot live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf.
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My only sketch, profile, of Heaven is a large blue sky, and larger than the biggest I have seen in June - and in it are my friends - every one of them.
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To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know, who charge within the bosom, the Cavalry of Woe.
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Which Anguish was the utterest--then-- To perish, or to live?
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To see her is a picture- To hear her is a tune- To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June- To know her not-Affliction- To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the the Sun Were shining in your Hand.
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Victory comes late-- And is held low to freezing lips-- Too rapt with frost To take it
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Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, But which will bloom most constantly? The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring ,Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again, And who will call the wild-briar fair? Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath now, And deck thee with holly's sheen, That, when December blights thy brow, He still may leave thy garland green.
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You remember my ideal cat has always a huge rat in its mouth, just going out of sight - though going out of sight in itself has a peculiar pleasure.
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My business is circumference.
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Remorse is cureless--the Disease Not even God--can heal-- For 'tis His institution--and The Adequate of Hell
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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
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God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me.
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Knew I how to pray, to intercede for your broken Foot were intuitive - but I am but a Pagan.
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Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the culprit,-Life!
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The Spirit lurks within the Flesh Like Tides within the Sea That make the Water live, estranged What would the Either be?
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The mountain at a given distance In amber lies; Approached, the amber flits a little,-- And that's the skies!
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Eden is that old-fashioned house we dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode until we drive away.
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They say that 'home is where the heart is.' I think it is where the house is, and the adjacent buildings.
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A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day.
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The sailor cannot see the north / but knows the needle can.
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The dandelion's pallid tube Astonishes the grass, And winter instantly becomes An infinite alas.
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Fame is a bee It has a song - It has a sting - Ah, too, it has a wing.
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Pain - has an Element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun - or if there were a time when it was not - It has no Future - but itself - Its Infinite contain Its Past - enlightened to perceive New Periods - of Pain.