Emily Dickinson Quotes
The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day.
After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.
If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.
I never had a mother. I suppose a mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled.
They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name.
Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
There is no Frigate like a book to take us lands away nor any coursers like a page of prancing Poetry.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.
Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.
He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.
We were never intimate mother and children while she was our mother – but… when she became our child, the affection came.
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
In such a porcelain life, one likes to be sure that all is well lest one stumble upon one’s hopes in a pile of broken crockery.
They might not need me; but they might. I’ll let my head be just in sight; a smile as small as mine might be precisely their necessity.
I had no portrait, now, but am small, like the wren; and my hair is bold, like the chestnut bur; and my eyes, like the sherry in the glass, that the guest leaves.
God is not so wary as we, else He would give us no friends, lest we forget Him! The charms of the heaven in the bush are superseded, I fear, by the heaven in the hand, occasionally.
Sisters are brittle things. God was penurious with me, which makes me shrewd with Him. One is a dainty sum! One bird, one cage, one flight; one song in those far woods, as yet suspected by faith only!