Emily Dickinson Quotes
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To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—
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The heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep; And then, if it should be The will of its Inquisitor, The liberty to die.
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The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.
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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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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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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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If Aims impel these Astral OnesThe ones allowed to knowKnow that which makes them as forgotAs Dawn forgets them - now
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The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
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Love is like life-merely longer.
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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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Bring me the sunset in a cup.
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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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I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod.
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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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To shut your eyes is to travel.
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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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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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For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
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Remorse is memory awake.
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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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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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Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I'd rather suit my foot Than save my Boot -- For yet to buy another Pair is possible, At any store -- But Bliss, is sold just once. The Patent lost None buy it any more -
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Then, as horizons step, Or noons report away,Without the formula of sound, It passes, and we stay:A quality of loss Affecting our content.
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Friends are nations in themselves.