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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.
Emily Dickinson
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Emily Dickinson
Age: 55 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 10
Died: 1886
Died: May 15
Poet
Writer
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
Ai-mi-li Ti-chin-sen
Emilia Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
Head
Precisely
Small
Necessity
Happiness
Laughter
Helping
Smile
Might
Mines
Need
Mine
Needs
Sight
Joy
Helpfulness
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Friends are nations in themselves.
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Nature is what we see - the hill, the afternoon, squirrel, eclipse, the bumblebee. Nay, nature is heaven. Nature is what we hear...
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I had a terror-since September -I could tell to none-and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground-because I am afraid.
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The Service without Hope Is tenderest, I think-- ... There is no Diligence like that That knows not an Until
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Here is a little forest Whose leaf is ever green Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum Prithee, my brother, Into my garden come!
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You left me boundaries of pain Capacious as the sea, Between eternity and time, Your consciousness and me.
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The Spider as an Artist Has never been employed- Though his surpassing Merit Is freely certified.
Emily Dickinson
The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.
Emily Dickinson
His Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush.
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My only sketch, profile, of Heaven is a large blue sky, and larger than the biggest I have seen in June - and in it are my friends - every one of them.
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I don't profess to be profound but I do lay claim to common sense.
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Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
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Some Arrows slay but whom they strike - But this slew all but him - Who so appareled his Escape - Too trackless for a Tomb
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Sweet Skepticism of the Heart That knows and does not know And tosses like a Fleet of Balm Affronted by the snow.
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We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.
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Mirth is the Mail of Anguish --
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The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care
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A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides
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People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.
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Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.
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