Quote

The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,-- The sweeping up the heart, And putting love away We shall not want to use again Until eternity

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
Heart
Shall
Enacted
Love
Morning
Bustle
Upon
Industries
Use
Sweeping
Death
Putting
House
Grief
Away
Eternity
Earth
Industry

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Endow the Living - with the Tears - You squander on the Dead.
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After a hundred years Nobody knows the place, Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace.
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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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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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Sunrise: day's great progenitor.
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The steeples swam in amethyst, the news like squirrels swam.
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Prosperity Whose sources are interior. As soon Adversity A diamond overtake.
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The WILL is always near, dear, though the feet vary.
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We trust in plumed procession For such the angels go Rank after rank, with even feet/And uniforms of snow.
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She died--this was the way she died And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.
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The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy.
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Truth - is as old as God-.
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Prayer is the little implement through which men reach where presence is denied them.
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Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.
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For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
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There's a certain Slant of light, Winter afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us— We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are.... When it comes, the Landscape listens— Shadows—hold their breath— When it goes, 'tis like the Distance On the look of Death.
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September's Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets - Crows - and Retrospects And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming - An Innuendo sear That makes the Heart put up its Fun And turn Philosopher.
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Those who lift their hats shall see Nature as devout do God.
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Will you tell me my fault, frankly as to yourself, for I had rather wince, than die. Men do not call the surgeon to commend the bone, but to set it, Sir.
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