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Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.

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
Grieving
Unable
Immortality
Sympathy
Loved
Dies
Condolences
Death
Bereavement
Love
Emily

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We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.
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Not to discover weakness is The Artifice of strength.
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People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.
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We trust in plumed procession For such the angels go Rank after rank, with even feet/And uniforms of snow.
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I dwell in Possibility A fairer house than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior — for Doors.
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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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Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.
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A Word that Breathes Distinctly Has not the Power to Die
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I could not stop for death and he did not stop for me.
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Sunrise: day's great progenitor.
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The world allured me & in an unguarded moment I listened to her siren voice. From that moment I seemed to lose interest in heavenly things. Friends reasoned with me & told me of the danger I was in. I felt my danger & was alarmed, but I had rambled too far to return & ever since my heart has been growing harder.
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Will you tell me my fault, frankly as to yourself, for I had rather wince, than die. Men do not call the surgeon to commend the bone, but to set it, Sir.
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Forever - is composed of Nows - 'Tis not a different time... Let Months dissolve in further Months - And Years - exhale in Years.
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If fame belonged to me, I could not escape her if she did not, the longest day would pass me on the chase, and the approbation of my dog would forsake me.
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Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind-Thy windy will to bear!
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He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on He stuns you by degrees. Prepares your brittle substance For the ethereal blow by fainter hammers, further heard, Then nearer, then so slow Your breath has time to straighten Your brain to bubble cool,- Deals one imperial thunderbolt That scalps your naked soul.
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Home is the definition of God.
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Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it, Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee, Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it, Not to partake thy passion, my humility.
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If I shouldn't be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
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Truth - is as old as God-.
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