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I tasted life.

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
Tasted
Life

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Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
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Faith is a fine invention When gentlemen can see, But microscopes are prudent In an emergency.
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The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on.
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To shut your eyes is to travel.
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That no Flake of [snow] fall on you or them - is a wish that would be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan.
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'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with Daisies lie- That Commerce will continue- And Trades as briskly fly.
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To lose what we have never owned might seem an eccentric bereavement, but Presumption has its own affliction as well as claim.
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I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy I said: 'T will keep. I woke and chid my honest fingers,— The gem was gone And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.
Emily Dickinson
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Forever is made up of nows.
Emily Dickinson
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Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on.
Emily Dickinson
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And you dropt, lost, When something broke-- And let you from a Dream
Emily Dickinson
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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?
Emily Dickinson
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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.
Emily Dickinson
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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.
Emily Dickinson
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Anger as soon as fed is dead- 'Tis starving makes it fat.
Emily Dickinson
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The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
Emily Dickinson
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I dwell in Possibility A fairer House than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior--for Doors Of Chambers as the Cedars Impregnable of Eye And for an Everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky Of Visitors--the fairest For Occupation--This The spreading wide my narrow Hands To gather Paradise
Emily Dickinson
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Where thou art, that is home.
Emily Dickinson
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Heaven is so far of the mind that were the mind dissolved - the site of it by architect could not again be proved.
Emily Dickinson
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Fame is a bee It has a song - It has a sting - Ah, too, it has a wing.
Emily Dickinson