Quotes from Emily Dickinson

Anger as soon as fed is dead- 'Tis starving makes it fat.

Becuase I could not stop for Death He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality

His Labor is a Chant -- his Idleness -- a Tune -- oh, for a Bee's experience of Clovers, and of Noon!

Hope is a thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without words And never stops at all.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the words without the tune, and never stops at all.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.

Luck is not chance, it is toil. Fortune is expensive smile is earned.

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those we have personality and emotion know what it means to want to escape from these things.

Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed.

The abdication of belief makes the behavior small -- better an ignis fatuus than no illume at all.

The mere sense of living is joy enough.

There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons-- That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes--

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.

A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.

Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?

I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there 's a pair of us—don't tell! They 'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog!

Nature is a haunted house--but Art--is a house that tries to be haunted.

To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.

Bring me the sunset in a cup.

Beauty is not caused. It is.

A Word is Dead A word is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just Begins to live That day.

I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.

The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.