Emily Dickinson Quotes
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I'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, "That must have been the sun!
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Portraits are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.
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Other Courtesies have been - Other Courtesy may be - We commend ourselves to thee Paragon of Chivalry.
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The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on.
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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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Fearless--the cobweb swings from the ceiling-- Indolent Housewife--in Daisies--lain!
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Where thou art, that is home.
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Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
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Two Seasons, it is said, exist- The Summer of the Just, And this of Ours, diversified With Prospect, and with Frost- May not our Second with its First So infinite compare That We but recollect the one The other to prefer?
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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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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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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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Celebrity is the chastisement of merit and the punishment of talent.
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The Loneliness One dare not sound -- And would as soon surmise AS in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size -- The Loneliness whose worst alarm Is lest itself should see -- And perish from before itself For just a scrutiny -- The Horror not to be surveyed -- But skirted in the Dark -- With Consciousness suspended -- And Being under Lock -- I fear me this -- is Loneliness -- The Maker of the soul Its Caverns and its Corridors Illuminate -- or seal
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Love is done when Loves begun, Sages say, But have Sages known?
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A Bayonet's contrition is nothing to the dead.
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The friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.
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Dying is a wild night and a new road.
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Love is its own rescue; for we, at our supremest, are but its trembling emblems.
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A Grave - is a restricted Breadth -Yet ampler than the Sun -And all the Seas He populatesAnd lands he looks uponTo Him who on its small ReposeBestows a single Friend -Circumference without Relief -Or Estimate - or End
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I never had a mother. I suppose a mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled.
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Upon the gallows hung a wretch, Too sullied for the hell To which the law entitled him. As nature’s curtain fell The one who bore him tottered in, For this was woman’s son. '’T was all I had,' she stricken gasped; Oh, what a livid boon!
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A Clock stopped-- Not the Mantel's-- Geneva's farthest skill Can't put the puppet bowing-- That just now dangled still
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Not with a Club, the Heart is broken Nor with a Stone - A Whip so small you could not see it I've knownTo lash the Magic Creature Till it fell, Yet that Whip's Name Too noble then to tell.Magnanimous as Bird By Boy descried - Singing unto the Stone Of which it died -Shame need not crouch In such an Earth as Ours - Shame - stand erect - The Universe is yours.