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Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.

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
Suddenly
Age
Comes
Thought
Gradually
Aging

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Hope is a thing with feathers
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Life is so rotatory that the wilderness falls to each, sometime.
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Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.
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We never know we go when we are going- We jest and shut the Door- Fate-following-behind us bolts it- And we accost no more-.
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The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man.
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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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It is finished, is never said of us
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I could not stop for death and he did not stop for me.
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I do not like the man who squanders life for fame give me the man who living makes a name.
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I hope you're very careful working, eating and drinking when the heat is so great--there are temptations there which at home you are free from--beware the juicy fruits, and the cooling ades, and cordials, and do not eat ice-cream, it is so very dangerous.
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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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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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Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate.
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Why should we censure Othello when the Criterion Lover says, Thou shalt have no other Gods before Me?
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That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.
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Just a turn of the doorknob, and there lies freedom.
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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.
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Those who lift their hats shall see Nature as devout do God.
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Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity - Unable they that love - to die For Love reforms Vitality Into Divinity.
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Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!
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