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

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
Makes
Starving
Feds
Fats
Anger
Angry
Soon
Emotion
Dead
Emily

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Those who lift their hats shall see Nature as devout do God.
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Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne'er succeed.
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... And then I heard them lift a box, And creak across my soul With those same boots of lead, again, Then space began to toll.
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To lose what we have never owned might seem an eccentric bereavement, but Presumption has its own affliction as well as claim.
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A Word that Breathes Distinctly Has not the Power to Die
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PRESENTIMENT is that long shadow on the lawn Indicative that suns go down The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
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I took one Draught of Life - I'll tell you what I paid - Precisely an existence - The market price, they said.
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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
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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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The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.
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Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.
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Our little kinsmen after rain In plenty may be seen, a pink and pulpy multitude The tepid ground upon A needless life if seemed to me Until a little bird As to a hospitality Advanced and breakfasted.
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The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.
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Hope is a thing with feathers
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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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I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.
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I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious
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