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Beauty is not caused. It is.

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
Caused
Beauty
Children

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The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy.
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Opinion is a flitting thing But Truth outlasts the Sun.
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His Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush.
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Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
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A charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld,— The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled. But peers beyond her mesh, And wishes, and denies,— Lest interview annul a want That image satisfies.
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A Word that Breathes Distinctly Has not the Power to Die
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I stepped from Plank to Plank A slow and cautious way
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Publication - is the auction of the mind.
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Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
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Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
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One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
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A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides
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To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
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Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
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Heaven is so far of the mind that were the mind dissolved - the site of it by architect could not again be proved.
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Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye It bears the Soul as bold As it were rocked in Steel With Arms of Steel at either side— It joins—behind the Veil To what, could We presume The Bridge would cease to be To Our far, vacillating Feet A first Necessity.
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March is the month of expectation, The things we do not know, The Persons of Prognostication Are coming now. We try to sham becoming firmness, But pompous joy Betrays us, as his first betrothal Betrays a boy.
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Pain - has an Element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun - or if there were a time when it was not - It has no Future - but itself - Its Infinite contain Its Past - enlightened to perceive New Periods - of Pain.
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The Truth never flaunted a sign.
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Eternity' is there, We say, as of a station. Meanwhile, he is so near, He joins me in my Ramble? Divides abode with me? No Friend have I that so persists As this Eternity.
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