Emily Dickinson Quotes
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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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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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Love is like life-merely longer.
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The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.
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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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After great pain, a formal feeling comes — The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs — The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, And Yesterday, or Centuries before? The Feet, mechanical, go round — Of Ground, or Air, or Ought — A Wooden way Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone — This is the Hour of Lead — Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow — First — Chill — then Stupor — then the letting go —
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If Aims impel these Astral OnesThe ones allowed to knowKnow that which makes them as forgotAs Dawn forgets them - now
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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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His mind of man, a secret makes I meet him with a start he carries a circumference in which I have no part.
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For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
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The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
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To shut your eyes is to travel.
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I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea. I knew not but the next Would be my final inch,— This gave me that precarious gait Some call experience.
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Bring me the sunset in a cup.
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Remorse is memory awake.
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God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.
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I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod.
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A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is To meet an antique book In just the dress his century wore; A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take, And warming in our own, A passage back, or two, to make To times when he was young. His quaint opinions to inspect, His knowledge to unfold On what concerns our mutual mind, The literature of old.
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I am going to learn to make bread tomorrow. So if you may imagine me with my sleeves rolled up, mixing flour, milk, saleratus, etc., with a deal of grace. I advise you if you dont know how to make the staff of life to learn with dispatch.
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My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them. They tell me those who were poor early have different views of gold. I don't know how that is. God is not so wary as we, else He would give us no friends, lest we forget Him.
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They say that “Time assuages” - Time never did assuage - An actual suffering strengthens As Sinews do, with age - Time is a Test of Trouble - But not a Remedy - If such it prove, it prove too There was no Malady.
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Not one of all the purple host Who took the flag to-day Can tell the definition So clear of victory, As he, defeated, dying, On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Break agonized and clear.
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The world allured me & in an unguarded moment I listened to her siren voice. From that moment I seemed to lose interest in heavenly things. Friends reasoned with me & told me of the danger I was in. I felt my danger & was alarmed, but I had rambled too far to return & ever since my heart has been growing harder.
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The dearest ones of time, the strongest friends of the soul--BOOKS.