Emily Dickinson Quotes
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Life is a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it.
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It is true that the unknown is the largest need of the intellect, though for it, no one thinks to thank God.
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At least to pray is left - is left Oh Jesus - in the Air - I know not which thy chamber is - I'm knocking everywhere.
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To lose what we have never owned might seem an eccentric bereavement, but Presumption has its own affliction as well as claim.
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One need not be a chamber to be haunted; One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place.
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We turn not older with years but newer every day.
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The Brain - is wider than the Sky - For - put them side by side - The one the other will contain With ease - and You - beside - The Brain is deeper than the sea - For- hold them - Blue to Blue - The one the other will absorb - As Sponges - Buckets - do - The Brain is just the weight of God - For - Heft them - Pound for Pound - And they will differ - if they do - As Syllable from Sound.
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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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They might not need me; but they might. I'll let my head be just in sight; a smile as small as mine might be precisely their necessity.
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I had no portrait, now, but am small, like the wren; and my hair is bold, like the chestnut bur; and my eyes, like the sherry in the glass, that the guest leaves.
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The Truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind.
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God is sitting here, looking into my very soul to see if I think right thoughts. Yet I am not afraid, for I try to be right and good; and He knows every one of my struggles.
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God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me.
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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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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
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There is a Zone whose even Years No Solstice interrupt - Whose Sun constructs perpetual Noon Whose perfect Seasons wait - Whose Summer set in Summer, till The Centuries of June And Centuries of August cease And Consciousness - is Noon.
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I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious.
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The Service without Hope Is tenderest, I think-- ... There is no Diligence like that That knows not an Until
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The Brain is just the weight of God-- For--Heft them--Pound for Pound-- And they will differ--if they do-- As Syllable from Sound
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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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Remorse is cureless--the Disease Not even God--can heal-- For 'tis His institution--and The Adequate of Hell
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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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Eden is that old-fashioned house we dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode until we drive away.
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To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know, who charge within the bosom, the Cavalry of Woe.