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Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.

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
Eye
Sense
Much
Divinest
Discerning
Emily
Insanity
Madness

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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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How lucious lies the pea within the pod.
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To see her is a picture- To hear her is a tune- To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June- To know her not-Affliction- To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the the Sun Were shining in your Hand.
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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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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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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.
Emily Dickinson
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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.
Emily Dickinson
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He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust.
Emily Dickinson
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Forever is made up of nows.
Emily Dickinson
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Renunciation-is a piercing Virtue-The letting go A Presence-for an Expectation-.
Emily Dickinson
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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!
Emily Dickinson
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You are out of the way of temptation and out of the way of the tempter - I didn't mean to make you wicked - but I was - and am - and shall be - and I was with you so much that I couldn't help contaminate.
Emily Dickinson
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My life closed twice before its close
Emily Dickinson
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Hope is a thing with feathers
Emily Dickinson
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The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy.
Emily Dickinson
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I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? Then there's a pair of us? Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know! How dreary – to be – Somebody! How public – like a Frog – To tell one's name – the livelong June – To an admiring Bog!
Emily Dickinson
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I dwell in possiblities.
Emily Dickinson
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God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.
Emily Dickinson
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It is finished, is never said of us
Emily Dickinson
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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.
Emily Dickinson