Quotes by Emily Dickinson
We turn not older with years, but newer every day
My life closed twice before its close—
My friends are my estate
That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.
Much Madness is divinest Sense -- to a discerning Eye -- much Sense -- the starkest Madness --
I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—
It has no future but itself— Its infinite contain Its past—enlightened to perceive New periods of pain.
If I can stop one Heart from breaking I shall not live in vain If I can ease one Life the Aching, or cool one Pain, Or help one fainting Robin into his Nest again, I shall not live in Vain.
How the old mountains drip with sunset, And the brake of dun! How the hemlocks are tipped in tinsel By the wizard sun! How the old steeples hand the scarlet, Till the ball is full, -- Have I the lip of the flamingo That I dare to tell? Then, how the fire ebbs like billows, Touching all the grass With a departing, sapphire feature, As if a duchess pass! How a small dusk crawls on the village Till the houses blot; And the odd flambeaux no men carry Glimmer on the spot! Now it is night in nest and kennel, And where was the wood, Just a dome of abyss is nodding Into solitude! -- These are the visions baffled Guido; Titian never told; Domenichino dropped the pencil, Powerless to unfold.
The Heart asks Pleasure—first— And then—Excuse from Pain—
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. And sings the tune Without the words, and never stops at all.
I dwell in possiblities.
I cannot live with you.
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away—
I dwell in possibility...
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.
Pain has an element of blank—
Hope is a thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without words And never stops at all.
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.
Becuase I could not stop for Death He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.
Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed
Because I could not stop for Death -- He kindly stopped for me -- The carriage held but just ourselvesAnd immortality.
Retreat was out of hope,— Behind, a sealed route, Eternity's white flag before, And God at every gate.
