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Find ecstasy in life the mere sense of living is joy enough.

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
Living
Emily
Sense
Positivity
Find
Ecstasy
Enough
Contentment
Life
Mere
Joy
Happiness
Enjoy

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The vastest earthly Day Is shrunken small By one Defaulting Face Behind a Pall.
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The Brain is just the weight of God-- For--Heft them--Pound for Pound-- And they will differ--if they do-- As Syllable from Sound
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I imagine therefore I belong and am free.
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The brain is wider than the sky.
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He deposes Doom Who hath suffered him.
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a sick room is at times too sacred a place for a friend's knock, timid as that is.
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And you dropt, lost, When something broke-- And let you from a Dream
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The Crime, from us, is hidden, [though] he is presumed to know.
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A Bayonet's contrition is nothing to the dead.
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The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.
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Common sense is almost as omniscient as God.
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Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea Past the houses, past the headlands Into deep eternity! Bred as we, among the mountains Can the sailor understand The divine intoxication Of the first league out from land?
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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.
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Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth
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Two Seasons, it is said, exist- The Summer of the Just, And this of Ours, diversified With Prospect, and with Frost- May not our Second with its First So infinite compare That We but recollect the one The other to prefer?
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I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? Then there's a pair of us? Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know! How dreary – to be – Somebody! How public – like a Frog – To tell one's name – the livelong June – To an admiring Bog!
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Where thou art, that is home.
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PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there's a word to lift your hat to... to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.
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Witchcraft was hung, in History, But History and I Find all the Witchcraft that we need Around us, every Day -
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Which Anguish was the utterest--then-- To perish, or to live?
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