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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.
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
Would
Folds
Winds
Flood
Floor
Cedar
Wind
Cedars
Tell
Drawer
Cannot
Drawers
Find
Fold
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That short, potential stir That each can make but once, That bustle so illustrious Tis almost consequence, Is the eclat of death.
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The Service without Hope Is tenderest, I think-- ... There is no Diligence like that That knows not an Until
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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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I do not like the man who squanders life for fame give me the man who living makes a name.
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The steeples swam in amethyst, the news like squirrels swam.
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The past is not a package one can lay away.
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Pain - has an Element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun - or if there were a time when it was not - It has no Future - but itself - Its Infinite contain Its Past - enlightened to perceive New Periods - of Pain.
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To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
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Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth
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Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.
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A Deed knocks first at Thought And then - it knocks at Will - That is the manufacturing spot.
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'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with Daisies lie- That Commerce will continue- And Trades as briskly fly.
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Witchcraft was hung, in History, But History and I Find all the Witchcraft that we need Around us, every Day -
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Answer July- Where is the Bee- Where is the Blush- Where is the Hay? Ah, said July- Where is the Seed- Where is the Bud- Where is the May- Answer Thee-Me-
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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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Hope is a thing with feathers
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Existence has overpowered Books. Today I slew a Mushroom.
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Nods from the Gilded pointers - Nods from the Seconds slim - Decades of Arrogance between The Dial life - And Him -
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The friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.
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My business is circumference.
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