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Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind-Thy windy will to bear!

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
Grant
Grants
Autumn
Bear
Bears
Lord
Mind
Windy
Sunny

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That no Flake of [snow] fall on you or them - is a wish that would be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan.
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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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I felt a Cleaving in my Mind- As if my Brain had split- I tried to match it- Seam by Seam- But could not make it fit.
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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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For love is immortality.
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God's unique capacity is too surprising to surprise.
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Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!
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I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.
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If fame belonged to me, I could not escape her if she did not, the longest day would pass me on the chase, and the approbation of my dog would forsake me.
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My life closed twice before its close
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Assent - and you are sane - Demur - and you're straightaway dangerous - and handled with a chain.
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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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Existence has overpowered Books. Today I slew a Mushroom.
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Truth - is as old as God-.
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The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man.
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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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Speech is one symptom of affection and silence one the perfect communication is heard of none.
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We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.
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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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Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.
Emily Dickinson