Emily Dickinson Quotes
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Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labour, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then 'tis centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.
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I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in heaven; Yet certain am I of the spot As if the chart were given.
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More than the Grave is closed to me -The Grave and that EternityTo which the Grave adheres -I cling to nowhere till I fall -The Crash of nothing, yet of all -How similar appears -
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Nature is a haunted house--but Art--is a house that tries to be haunted.
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Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
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The sun just touched the morning; The morning, happy thing, Supposed that he had come to dwell, And life would be all spring.
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A light exists in Spring Not present in the year at any other period When March is scarcely here.
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It tossed and tossed,- A little brig I knew,- O’ertook by blast, It spun and spun, And groped delirious, for morn.It slipped and slipped, As one that drunken stepped; Its white foot tripped, Then dropped from sight.Ah, brig, good-night To crew and you; The ocean’s heart too smooth, too blue, To break for you.
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Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise. Three times, ’t is said, a sinking man Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever To that abhorred abodeWhere hope and he part company,- For he is grasped of God. The Maker’s cordial visage, However good to see, Is shunned, we must admit it, Like an adversity.
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Why should we censure Othello when the Criterion Lover says, "Thou shalt have no other Gods before Me"?
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Belshazzar had a letter,-- He never had but one; Belshazzar's correspondence Concluded and begun In that immortal copy The conscience of us all Can read without its glasses On revelation's wall.
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Will you tell me my fault, frankly as to yourself, for I had rather wince, than die. Men do not call the surgeon to commend the bone, but to set it, Sir.
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The Spider as an Artist Has never been employed- Though his surpassing Merit Is freely certified.
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The brain is wider than the sky.
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Where thou art, that is home.
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My friends are my estate.
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He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees. Prepares your brittle substance For the ethereal blow by fainter hammers, further heard, Then nearer, then so slow Your breath has time to straighten Your brain to bubble cool,- Deals one imperial thunderbolt That scalps your naked soul.
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What will the solemn Hemlock- What will the Oak tree say?
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That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.
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Who has not found the Heaven - below -Will fail of it above -
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I SEE thee better in the dark, I do not need a light. The love of thee a prism be Excelling violet. I see thee better for the years That hunch themselves between, The miner’s lamp sufficient be To nullify the mine. And in the grave I see thee best — Its little panels be A-glow, all ruddy with the light I held so high for thee! What need of day to those whose dark Hath so surpassing sun, It seem it be continually At the meridian?
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Take all away from me, but leave me Ecstasy, And I am richer then than all my Fellow Men-.
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The power to console is not within corporeal reach - though its attempt is precious.
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She died--this was the way she died; And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.