Emily Dickinson Quotes
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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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Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.
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Afraid? Of whom am I afraid? Not death. For who is he?
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Not if Their Party were waiting, Not if to talk with Me Were to Them now, Homesickness After Eternity.
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Till I loved I never lived.
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Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind-Thy windy will to bear!
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Endow the Living - with the Tears - You squander on the Dead.
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MY river runs to thee: Blue sea, wilt welcome me? My river waits reply. Oh sea, look graciously! I ’ll fetch thee brooks From spotted nooks,— Say, sea, Take me!
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Vinnie rocks her Garden and moans that God won't help her. I suppose he is too busy getting angry with the Wicked every day.
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Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence - is denied them. They fling their Speech By means of it - in God's Ear - If then He hear - This sums the Apparatus Comprised in Prayer
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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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It was a quiet way - He asked if I was his - I made no answer of the tongue But answer of the eyes - And then He bore me on Before this mortal noise With swiftness, as of Chariots and distance, as of Wheels. This World did drop away As acres from the feet of one that leaneth from Balloon Upon an Ether Street. The Gulf behind was not, The Continents were new - Eternity was due. No Seasons were to us - It was not Night nor Morn - But Sunrise stopped upon the place And Fastened in Dawn.
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I have an appetite for silence.
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But a Book is only the Heart's Portrait- every Page a Pulse.
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The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.
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You cannot put a fire out! A thing that can ignite can go itself- without a flame- E'en through the darkest night!
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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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The truth dazzles gradually, or else the world would be blind.
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Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
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The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,-- The sweeping up the heart, And putting love away We shall not want to use again Until eternity.
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God is indeed a jealous God. He cannot bear to see, that we had rather not with him, but with each other play.
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Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.
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I like a look of Agony, because I know it's true - men do not sham Convulsion, nor simulate, a Throe
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I do not know the man so bold He dare in lonely Place That awful stranger Consciousness Deliberately face-.