Emily Dickinson Quotes
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To Whom the Mornings stand for Nights,What must the Midnights - be!
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Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie, The Day that a companion came- Or was obliged to die.
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We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies.
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'Faith' is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see - But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
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A little Madness in the SpringIs wholesome even for the King.
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Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
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It ’s such a little thing to weep, So short a thing to sigh; And yet by trades the size of these We men and women die!
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Mine enemy is growing old,- I have at last revenge. The palate of the hate departs; If any would avenge,-Let him be quick, the viand flits, It is a faded meat. Anger as soon as fed is dead; ’T is starving makes it fat.
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The minister today preached about death and judgment, and what would become of those who behaved improperly - and somehow it scared me. He preached such an awful sermon I didn't think I should ever see you again until the Judgment Day. The subject of perdition seemed to please him somehow.
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Death is a supple suitor, that wins at last. It is a stealthy wooing; conducted first by pallid innuendos and dim approach, but brave at last with bugles.
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To possess is past the instant; we achieve the joy, immortality contented, were anomaly.
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My Faith is larger than the Hills— So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wheel To show the Sun the way— 'Tis first He steps upon the Vane— And then — upon the Hill— And then abroad the World He go To do His Golden Will— And if His Yellow feet should miss— The Bird would not arise— The Flowers would slumber on their Stems— No Bells have Paradise— How dare I, therefore, stint a faith On which so vast depends— Lest Firmament should fail for me— The Rivet in the Bands
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Dreams - are well - but Waking's better, If One wake at Morn - If One wake at Midnight - better - Dreaming - of the Dawn.
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I must go in, the fog is rising.
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Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
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If your Nerve, deny you - Go above your Nerve
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My friends are my 'estate.' Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them.
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Assent - and you are sane - Demur - and you're straightaway dangerous - and handled with a chain.
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LOOK back on time with kindly eyes, He doubtless did his best; How softly sinks his trembling sun In human nature's west!
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How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And does n’t care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.
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I am one of the lingering bad ones, and so do I slink away, and pause, and ponder, and ponder, and pause, and do work without knowing why - not surely for this brief world, and more sure it is not for heaven - and I ask what this message of Christ means.
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He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust.
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Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
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Fate slew him, but he did not drop; She felled-he did not fall- Impaled him on her fiercest stakes- He neutralized them all.She stung him, sapped his firm advance, But, when her worst was done, And he, unmoved, regarded her, Acknowledged him a man.