Emily Dickinson Quotes
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You'll find it-when you try to die- The Easier to let go- For recollecting such as went- You could not spare-you know.
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Who has not found the heaven below Will fail of it above. God’s residence is next to mine, His furniture is love.
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We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.
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I had no monarch in my life, and cannot rule myself; and when I try to organize, my little force explodes and leaves me bare and charred.
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After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.
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The power to console is not within corporeal reach - though its attempt is precious.
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Witchcraft was hung, in History, But History and I Find all the Witchcraft that we need Around us, every Day -
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Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!
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A charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld,— The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled. But peers beyond her mesh, And wishes, and denies,— Lest interview annul a want That image satisfies.
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Beauty is not caused, it is; Chase it and it ceases, Chase it not and it abides.
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I am growing handsome very fast indeed! I expect I shall be the belle of Amherst when I reach my 17th year. I don't doubt that I shall have perfect crowds of admirers at that age. Then how I shall delight to make them await my bidding, and with what delight shall I witness their suspense while I make my final decision.
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I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: "'T will keep." I woke and chid my honest fingers,— The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.
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In this short life that only lasts ah hour how much-how little-is within our power.
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His Labor is a Chant - His Idleness -a Tune - Oh, for a Bee's experience Of Clovers, and of Noon!
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A wounded deer leaps highest, I've heard the hunter tell; 'Tis but the ecstasy of death, And then the brake is still. The smitten rock that gushes, The trampled steel that springs,, A cheek is always redder Just where the hectic stings Mirth is mail of anguish, In which its cautious arm Lest anybody spy the blood And, you're hurt exclaim.
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Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell.
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He deposes Doom Who hath suffered him.
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Tell the truth, but tell it slant.
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The past is not a package one can lay away.
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I stepped from Plank to Plank A slow and cautious way
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A courteous, yet harrowing Grace, As Guest, that would be gone
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Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies.
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They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
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November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.