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Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate.

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
Literature
Fickle
Upon
Plate
Plates
Shifting
Idols
Cooking
Fame
Food
Emily

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The Crime, from us, is hidden, [though] he is presumed to know.
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To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
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A dim capacity for wings demeans the dress I wear.
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Those who lift their hats shall see Nature as devout do God.
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Eternity' is there, We say, as of a station. Meanwhile, he is so near, He joins me in my Ramble? Divides abode with me? No Friend have I that so persists As this Eternity.
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The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care
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Assent - and you are sane - Demur - and you're straightaway dangerous - and handled with a chain.
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The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
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I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? Then there's a pair of us? Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know! How dreary – to be – Somebody! How public – like a Frog – To tell one's name – the livelong June – To an admiring Bog!
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I imagine therefore I belong and am free.
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Nature is what we see - the hill, the afternoon, squirrel, eclipse, the bumblebee. Nay, nature is heaven. Nature is what we hear...
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The brain is wider than the sky.
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You cannot fold a flood and put it in a drawer, because the winds would find it out and tell your cedar floor.
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He deposes Doom Who hath suffered him.
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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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When I state myself, as the representative of the verse, it does not mean me, but a supposed person.
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I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.
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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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The power to console is not within corporeal reach - though its attempt is precious.
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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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