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I felt it shelter to speak to you.

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
Smile
Relationship
Speak
Inspirational
Felt
Shelter

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The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
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A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides
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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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I think Heaven will not be as good as earth, unless it bring with it that sweet power to remember, which is the staple of Heaven here.
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Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs.
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The WILL is always near, dear, though the feet vary.
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Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.
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My business is circumference.
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Fame is a bee It has a song - It has a sting - Ah, too, it has a wing.
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Tell all the Truth but tell it slant-- Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth's superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind--
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I dwell in possibility.
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Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes
Emily Dickinson
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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 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.
Emily Dickinson
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I dwell in possibilities .
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The vastest earthly Day Is shrunken small By one Defaulting Face Behind a Pall.
Emily Dickinson
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The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend, - Or the most agonizing Spy - An Enemy - could send -
Emily Dickinson
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My only sketch, profile, of Heaven is a large blue sky, and larger than the biggest I have seen in June - and in it are my friends - every one of them.
Emily Dickinson
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Remorse is cureless--the Disease Not even God--can heal-- For 'tis His institution--and The Adequate of Hell
Emily Dickinson
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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
Emily Dickinson