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My love for those I love -- not many -- not very many, but don't I love them so?

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
Many
Love

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Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.
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The WILL is always near, dear, though the feet vary.
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A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides
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The steeples swam in amethyst, the news like squirrels swam.
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Much Madness is divinest Sense -- To a discerning Eye -- Much Sense -- the starkest Madness -- 'Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail -- Assent -- and you are sane -- Demur -- you're straightway dangerous -- And handled with a Chain --
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Good times are always mutual that is what makes good times.
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I have an appetite for silence.
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His Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush.
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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.
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Find ecstasy in life the mere sense of living is joy enough.
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A dim capacity for wings demeans the dress I wear.
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Nods from the Gilded pointers - Nods from the Seconds slim - Decades of Arrogance between The Dial life - And Him -
Emily Dickinson
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You remember my ideal cat has always a huge rat in its mouth, just going out of sight - though going out of sight in itself has a peculiar pleasure.
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Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity - Unable they that love - to die For Love reforms Vitality Into Divinity.
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You cannot fold a flood and put it in a drawer, because the winds would find it out and tell your cedar floor.
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Suspense-is Hostiler than Death-Death- tho soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increase- Suspense-does not conclude-.
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PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there's a word to lift your hat to... to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.
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Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.
Emily Dickinson
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Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.
Emily Dickinson
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As Summer into Autumn slips And yet we sooner say The Summer than the Autumn, lest We turn the sun away, And almost count it an Affront The presence to concede Of one however lovely, not The one that we have loved - So we evade the charge of Years On one attempting shy The Circumvention of the Shaft Of Life's Declivity.
Emily Dickinson