Emily Dickinson Quotes
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To die before one fears to die may be a boon.
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We turn not older with years but newer every day.
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Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play -- In accidental power -- The blonde Assassin passes on -- The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God.
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We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.
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A death-blow is a life-blow to some Who, till they died, did not alive become; Who, had they lived, had died, but when They died, vitality begun.
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Forever - is composed of Nows - 'Tis not a different time... Let Months dissolve in further Months - And Years - exhale in Years.
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I took one Draught of Life -I'll tell you what I paid -Precisely an existence -The market price, they said.
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A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
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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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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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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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Hope is a thing with feathers.
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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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Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast; Grant, God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest.Please God, might I behold him In epauletted white, I should not fear the foe then, I should not fear the fight.
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That short, potential stir That each can make but once, That bustle so illustrious Tis almost consequence, Is the eclat of death.
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You are nipping in the bud fancies which I let blossom. The shore is safer, but I love to buffet the sea - I can count the bitter wrecks here in these pleasant waters, and hear the murmuring winds, but oh, I love the danger!
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These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.
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Answer July- Where is the Bee- Where is the Blush- Where is the Hay? Ah, said July- Where is the Seed- Where is the Bud- Where is the May- Answer Thee-Me-
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My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -In Corners - till a DayThe Owner passed - identified -And carried Me away -And now We roam in Sovereign Woods -And now We hunt the Doe -And every time I speak for Him -The Mountains straight reply -
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The Truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind.
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Truth - is as old as God-.
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But a Book is only the Heart's Portrait- every Page a Pulse.
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To be alive is power; existence in itself; without a further function; omnipotence.
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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.