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Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.

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
Dear
Parents
Hold
Parent
Without
World
Confusing
Scary

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I could not prove the Years had feet-/Yet confident they run.
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Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
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Endow the Living - with the Tears - You squander on the Dead.
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Why should we censure Othello when the Criterion Lover says, Thou shalt have no other Gods before Me?
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Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play -- In accidental power -- The blonde Assassin passes on -- The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God.
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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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This is the Hour of Lead- Remembered, if outlived, As freezing persons, recollect the Snow- First-Chill-then Stupor- then the letting go---
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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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Good times are always mutual that is what makes good times.
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Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit-Life!
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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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All things do go a-courting, In earth, or sea, or air, God hath made nothing single But thee in His world so fair.
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Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence - is denied them. They fling their Speech By means of it - in God's Ear - If then He hear - This sums the Apparatus Comprised in Prayer
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Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate.
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To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—
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LOOK back on time with kindly eyes, He doubtless did his best How softly sinks his trembling sun In human nature's west!
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God's unique capacity is too surprising to surprise.
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March is the month of expectation, The things we do not know, The Persons of Prognostication Are coming now. We try to sham becoming firmness, But pompous joy Betrays us, as his first betrothal Betrays a boy.
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A Murmur in the Trees - to note - Not loud enough - for Wind - A Star - not far enough to seek - Nor near enough - to find
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Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.
Emily Dickinson