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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
Sympathy
Loved
Dies
Condolences
Death
Bereavement
Love
Emily
Grieving
Unable
Immortality

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I cannot live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
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God's unique capacity is too surprising to surprise.
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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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Existence has overpowered Books. Today I slew a Mushroom.
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I think Heaven will not be as good as earth, unless it bring with it that sweet power to remember, which is the staple of Heaven here.
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The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
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The Crime, from us, is hidden, [though] he is presumed to know.
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I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy I said: 'T will keep. I woke and chid my honest fingers,— The gem was gone And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.
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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
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THE soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling her. Depart, before the host has slid The bolt upon the door, To seek for the accomplished guest, -- Her visitor no more.
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The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small- Better an ignis fatuus Than no illume at all.
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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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People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
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Had we less to say to those we love, perhaps we should say it oftener.
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To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—
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I dwell in possibilities .
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The minister today preached about death and judgment, and what would become of those who behaved improperly - and somehow it scared me. He preached such an awful sermon I didn't think I should ever see you again until the Judgment Day. The subject of perdition seemed to please him somehow.
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The things of which we want the proof are those we know the best.
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I dwell in possiblities.
Emily Dickinson