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Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.

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
Hurts
Hurt
Living

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I felt it shelter to speak to you.
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Not if Their Party were waiting, Not if to talk with Me Were to Them now, Homesickness After Eternity.
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Nature is what we know - Yet have not art to say - So impotent our wisdom is To her simplicity.
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Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
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A Letter is a Joy of Earth - It is denied the Gods
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If Aims impel these Astral Ones The ones allowed to know Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now
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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.
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Best Witchcraft is Geometry To the magician's mind - His ordinary acts are feats To thinking of mankind.
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A Toad, can die of Light - Death is the Common Right Of Toads and Men
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Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.
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A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides
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To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know, who charge within the bosom, the Cavalry of Woe.
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He deposes Doom Who hath suffered him.
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That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.
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Other Courtesies have been - Other Courtesy may be - We commend ourselves to thee Paragon of Chivalry.
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Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.
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Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.
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The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man.
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I can wade Grief -- Whole Pools of it -- I'm used to that -- But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet -- And I tip -- drunken -- Let no Pebble -- smile -- 'Twas the New Liquor -- That was all!
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His Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush.
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