Emily Dickinson Quotes
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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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Open your life wide, and take me in forever. I will never be tired-I will never be noisy when you want to be still...nobody else will see me, but you-but that is enough-I shall not want any more.
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Faith-is the pierless bridge supporting what We see unto the scene that we do not.
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A Dominie in Gray-- Put gently up the evening Bars-- And led the flock away
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Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes.
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She rose to his requirement, dropped The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
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What Soft--Cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen are-- One would as soon assault a Plush-- Or violate a Star
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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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Which Anguish was the utterest--then-- To perish, or to live?
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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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There is a pain so utter, it swallows being up; The covers the abyss with a trance So memory can step around, across, upon it.
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... And then I heard them lift a box, And creak across my soul With those same boots of lead, again, Then space began to toll.
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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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Of Consciousness, her awful Mate. The Soul cannot be rid - as easy the secreting her behind the Eyes of God.
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To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I They may take the trifle Termed mortality!
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Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.
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God's unique capacity is too surprising to surprise.
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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
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That no Flake of snow fall on you or them - is a wish that would be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan.
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The Things that never can come back, are several- Childhood-some forms of Hope-the Dead- Though Joys-like Men-may sometimes make a Journey- And still abide-.
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Publication - is the auction of the mind.
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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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Twin loaves of bread have just been born into the world under my auspices. Fine children, the image of their mother. And here, my dear friend, is the glory.
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Not if Their Party were waiting, Not if to talk with Me Were to Them now, Homesickness After Eternity.