Quote

Anger as soon as fed is dead- 'Tis starving makes it fat.

Emily Dickinson

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

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
Feds
Fats
Anger
Angry
Soon
Emotion
Dead
Emily
Makes
Starving

More quotes by Emily Dickinson

Image
The last of Summer is Delight - Deterred by Retrospect. 'Tis Ecstasy's revealed Review - Enchantment's Syndicate. To meet it - nameless as it is - Without celestial Mail - Audacious as without a Knock To walk within the Veil.
Emily Dickinson
Image
I dwell in possibility.
Emily Dickinson
Image
When I state myself, as the representative of the verse, it does not mean me, but a supposed person.
Emily Dickinson
Image
Witchcraft was hung, in History, But History and I Find all the Witchcraft that we need Around us, every Day -
Emily Dickinson
Image
Beauty is not the cause of something, it is what it is.
Emily Dickinson
Image
The Spider as an Artist Has never been employed- Though his surpassing Merit Is freely certified.
Emily Dickinson
Image
This so much joy! This so much joy! If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so this side the victory!
Emily Dickinson
Image
Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies
Emily Dickinson
Image
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
Image
Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.
Emily Dickinson
Image
Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.
Emily Dickinson
Image
Where thou art, that is home.
Emily Dickinson
Image
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickinson
Image
Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide, But during March and April None stir abroad Without a cordial interview With God.
Emily Dickinson
Image
An altered look about the hills A Tyrian light the village fills A wider sunrise in the dawn A deeper twilight on the lawn A print of a vermilion foot A purple finger on the slope A flippant fly upon the pane A spider at his trade again An added strut in chanticleer A flower expected everywhere.
Emily Dickinson
Image
There is a solitude of space. A solitude of sea. A solitude of death, but these societies shall be compared with that profounder site-that polar privacy. A soul admitted to itself--Finite infinity.
Emily Dickinson
Image
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.
Emily Dickinson
Image
The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
Emily Dickinson
Image
God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.
Emily Dickinson
Image
That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.
Emily Dickinson