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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.

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
Poor
Robust
Words
Drank
Spirit
Frame
Precious
Dust
Poverty
Grew
Knew

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I imagine therefore I belong and am free.
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Opinion is a flitting thing But Truth outlasts the Sun.
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A Bayonet's contrition is nothing to the dead.
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We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.
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People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.
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Remorse is cureless--the Disease Not even God--can heal-- For 'tis His institution--and The Adequate of Hell
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Celebrity is the chastisement of merit and the punishment of talent.
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Other Courtesies have been - Other Courtesy may be - We commend ourselves to thee Paragon of Chivalry.
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Speech is one symptom of affection and silence one the perfect communication is heard of none.
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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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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
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Sunrise: day's great progenitor.
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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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Fortune befriends the bold.
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Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
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Saying nothing... sometimes says the most.
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The last of Summer is Delight - Deterred by Retrospect. 'Tis Ecstasy's revealed Review - Enchantment's Syndicate. To meet it - nameless as it is - Without celestial Mail - Audacious as without a Knock To walk within the Veil.
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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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A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides
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Nods from the Gilded pointers - Nods from the Seconds slim - Decades of Arrogance between The Dial life - And Him -
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