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It is better to be the hammer than the anvil.

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
Anvils
Hammer
Hammers
Better
Anvil

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Suspense-is Hostiler than Death-Death- tho soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increase- Suspense-does not conclude-.
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Tell all the Truth but tell it slant-- Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth's superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind--
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The Crime, from us, is hidden, [though] he is presumed to know.
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I took one Draught of Life - I'll tell you what I paid - Precisely an existence - The market price, they said.
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The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
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There is a solitude of space. A solitude of sea. A solitude of death, but these societies shall be compared with that profounder site-that polar privacy. A soul admitted to itself--Finite infinity.
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They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
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Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.
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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
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The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy.
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Home is the definition of God.
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The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.
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Renunciation-is a piercing Virtue-The letting go A Presence-for an Expectation-.
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Beauty crowds me till I die. Beauty, mercy have on me! Yet if I expire to-day Let it be in sight of thee!
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The Service without Hope Is tenderest, I think-- ... There is no Diligence like that That knows not an Until
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By Chivalries as tiny, A Blossom, or a Book, The seeds of smiles are planted- Which Blossom in the dark.
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An altered look about the hills A Tyrian light the village fills A wider sunrise in the dawn A deeper twilight on the lawn A print of a vermilion foot A purple finger on the slope A flippant fly upon the pane A spider at his trade again An added strut in chanticleer A flower expected everywhere.
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Angels in the early morning may be seen the dews among. Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying. Do the buds to them belong?
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What Soft--Cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen are-- One would as soon assault a Plush-- Or violate a Star
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[A] mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled.
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