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A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore A privilege I think.
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
Century
Quaint
Pleasure
Antiques
Book
Wore
Think
Precious
Thinking
Dress
Dresses
Privilege
Mouldering
Meet
Antique
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Luck is not chance, it's toil fortune's expensive smile is earned.
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The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.
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Beauty is not caused. It is.
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Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.
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Just a turn of the doorknob, and there lies freedom.
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You are nipping in the bud fancies which I let blossom. The shore is safer, but I love to buffet the sea - I can count the bitter wrecks here in these pleasant waters, and hear the murmuring winds, but oh, I love the danger!
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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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To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
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Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
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If you take care of the small things, the big things take care of themselves. You can gain more control over your life by paying closer attention to the little things.
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The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on.
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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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That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.
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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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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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They might not need me but they might. I'll let my head be just in sight a smile as small as mine might be precisely their necessity.
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The only Commandment I ever obeyed — 'Consider the Lilies.
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How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.
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The last of Summer is Delight - Deterred by Retrospect. 'Tis Ecstasy's revealed Review - Enchantment's Syndicate. To meet it - nameless as it is - Without celestial Mail - Audacious as without a Knock To walk within the Veil.
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They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
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