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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
Anvil
Anvils
Hammer
Hammers
Better

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Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
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Love can do all but raise the Dead I doubt if even that From such a giant were withheld Were flesh equivalent But love is tired and must sleep, And hungry and must graze And so abets the shining Fleet Till it is out of gaze.
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Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne'er succeed.
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Publication - is the auction of the mind.
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Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide, But during March and April None stir abroad Without a cordial interview With God.
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Fortune befriends the bold.
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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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A Letter is a Joy of Earth - It is denied the Gods
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Wonder is not precisely knowing.
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He deposes Doom Who hath suffered him.
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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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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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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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Knew I how to pray, to intercede for your [broken] Foot were intuitive - but I am but a Pagan.
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The WILL is always near, dear, though the feet vary.
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I felt a Cleaving in my Mind- As if my Brain had split- I tried to match it- Seam by Seam- But could not make it fit.
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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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I felt it shelter to speak to you.
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Speech is one symptom of affection and silence one the perfect communication is heard of none.
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Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.
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