Quote

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.

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
Upon
Died
Gates
Littles
Figures
Angels
Find
Took
Mortals
Little
Side
Breath
Spied
Done
Started
Breaths
Rebirth
Must
Sides
Angel
Gate
Way
Since
Figure
Wardrobe
Never
Simple
Sun
Mortal

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I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious
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The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
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THE soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling her. Depart, before the host has slid The bolt upon the door, To seek for the accomplished guest, -- Her visitor no more.
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I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven Yet certain am I of the spot, As if a chart were given.
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It is easy to work when the soul is at play.
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The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small- Better an ignis fatuus Than no illume at all.
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Those who lift their hats shall see Nature as devout do God.
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Those who have not found the heaven below, will fail of it above.
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Fame is a bee It has a song - It has a sting - Ah, too, it has a wing.
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The Truth never flaunted a sign.
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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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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.
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If Aims impel these Astral Ones The ones allowed to know Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now
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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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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!
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This is the Hour of Lead- Remembered, if outlived, As freezing persons, recollect the Snow- First-Chill-then Stupor- then the letting go---
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I have an appetite for silence.
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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
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Find ecstasy in life the mere sense of living is joy enough.
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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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