Emily Dickinson Quotes
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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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The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.
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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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Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
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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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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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I must go in, the fog is rising.
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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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Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
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A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came,A Wisdom, without Face, or Name,A Peace, as Hemispheres at HomeAnd so the Night became.
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Could Hope inspect her BasisHer Craft were done -Has a fictitious CharterOr it has none -Balked in the vastest instanceBut to renew -Felled but by one assassin -Prosperity -
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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.
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Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
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A little Madness in the SpringIs wholesome even for the King.
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The only secret people keep is immortality.
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How much can come And much can go, And yet abide the world!
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How frugal is the chariot that bears a human soul.
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A dim capacity for wings demeans the dress I wear.
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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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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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To ignore or use silence is a cruel tool. Hence this quote: Silence is all we dread; there's ransom in a voice; but silence is infinity.
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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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His Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush.