Quotes from Emily Dickinson

The spirit looks upon the Dust That fastened it so long With indignation, As a Bird Defrauded of it's Song.

I can wade grief, Whole pools of it, I 'm used to that. But the least push of joy Breaks up my feet, And I tip—drunken. Let no pebble smile, 'T was the new liquor,— That was all! Power is only pain, Stranded, through discipline, Till weights will hang. Give balm to giants, And they 'll wilt, like men. Give Himmaleh, They 'll carry him!

Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. "Dissolve" says Death, The Spirit "Sir I have another Trust" - Death doubts it - Argues from the Ground - The Spirit turns away Just laying off for evidence An Overcoat of Clay.

Dich hab ich nicht erreicht- Doch nähert Tag für Tag Sich dir mein Fuß Drei Flüsse noch und ein Berg Ich überqueren muss. Noch Eine Wüste, noch ein Meer, Die Reise aber zähl ich nicht, Wenn ich dann vor Dir steh. Wir schreiten leicht, wie Schnee wir stehen, die Wasser murmeln leis. Flüsse, Wüsten, Berg und Meer sind von uns durchlaufen. Doch Tod entreißt mir meinen Preis, Dich schauend, er gewinnt.

Home is so far from home.

I know that He exists. Somewhere – in silence – He has hid his rare life From our gross eyes.

Long Years apart—can make no Long Years apart—can make no Breach a second cannot fill— The absence of the Witch does not Invalidate the spell— The embers of a Thousand Years Uncovered by the Hand That fondled them when they were Fire Will stir and understand—

But the world is sleeping in ignorance and error, sir, and we must be crowing cocks, and singing larks, and a rising sun to awake her; or else we'll pull society up to the roots, and plant it in a different place. We'll build Alms-houses, and transcendental State prisons, and scaffolds -- we will blow out the sun, and the moon, and encourage invention. Alpha shall kiss Omega--we will ride up the hill of glory -- Hallelujah, all hail!

Publication - is the Auction / Of the Mind of Man

Harm is one of those things that I always mean to keep clear of, but somehow my intentions and me don't chime as they ought, and people will get hit with stones that I throw at my neighbor's dogs...

September's Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets — Crows — and Retrospects And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming — An Innuendo sear That makes the Heart put up its Fun And turn Philosopher.

Why joys so scantily disburse, Why Paradise defer, Why floods are served to us in bowls,— I speculate no more.

The small heart cannot break. The ecstasy of its penalty solaces the large.

How dreary — to be — Somebody! How public — like a Frog — To tell one's name — the livelong June — To an admiring Bog!

My dying tutor told me that he would like to live till I had been a poet, but Death was much of Mob as I could master-then-And when far afterward-a sudden light on Orchards, or a new fashion in the wind troubled my attention- I felt a palsy, here- the Verses just relieve- (174)

I only know that when you shall come back again, the Earth will seem more beautiful, and bigger than it does now, and the blue sky from the window will be all dotted with gold -- though it may not be evening, or time for the stars to come.

To wander now is my abode; To rest,—to rest would be A privilege of hurricane To memory and me.

There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons- That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes- Heavenly Hurt, it gives us- We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are- None may teach-Any- 'Tis the Seal Despair- An imperial affliction Sent us of the air- When it comes, the Landscape listens- Shadows-hold their breath- When it goes.'tis like the Distance On the look of Death-

My river runs to thee: Blue sea, wilt welcome me? My river waits reply. Oh sea, look graciously! I'll fetch thee brooks From spotted nooks, — Say, sea, Take me!

The dying need but little, dear, —    A glass of water's all, A flower's unobtrusive face    To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,    And certainly that one No color in the rainbow    Perceives when you are gone.

I am glad you have an hour for books, those enthralling friends, the immortalities...

You must let me go first, Sue, because I live in the Sea always and know the Road. I would have drowned twice to save you sinking, dear, If I could only have covered your Eyes so you wouldn't have seen the Water.

An ill heart, like a body, has its more comfortable days, and then its days of pain, its long relapse, when rallying requires more effort than to dissolve life, and death looks choiceless.

Death is a dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. Dissolve says Death-The Spirit Sir I have another Trust-