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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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One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
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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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He deposes Doom Who hath suffered him.
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Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.
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Hope is a thing with feathers
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Just a turn of the doorknob, and there lies freedom.
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Truth - is as old as God-.
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When a Lover is a Beggar Abject is his Knee. When a Lover is an Owner Different is he.
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I cannot live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
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Find ecstasy in life the mere sense of living is joy enough.
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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.
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I dwell in Possibility A fairer House than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior--for Doors Of Chambers as the Cedars Impregnable of Eye And for an Everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky Of Visitors--the fairest For Occupation--This The spreading wide my narrow Hands To gather Paradise
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I felt it shelter to speak to you.
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God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me.
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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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Safe Despair it is that raves- Agony is frugal. Puts itself severe away For its own perusal.
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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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I imagine therefore I belong and am free.
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We never know we go when we are going- We jest and shut the Door- Fate-following-behind us bolts it- And we accost no more-.
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What Soft--Cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen are-- One would as soon assault a Plush-- Or violate a Star
Emily Dickinson