Quote

I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.

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
Trying
Hurts
Would
Choose
Hurt
Wonder
Dies
Rather
Whether
Live

More quotes by Emily Dickinson

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Mine Enemy is growing old -- I have at last Revenge -- The Palate of the Hate departs -- If any would avenge Let him be quick -- the Viand flits -- It is a faded Meat -- Anger as soon as fed is dead -- 'Tis starving makes it fat
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How lucious lies the pea within the pod.
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Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies
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The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
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Publication - is the auction of the mind.
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The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.
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Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea Past the houses, past the headlands Into deep eternity! Bred as we, among the mountains Can the sailor understand The divine intoxication Of the first league out from land?
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You'll find it-when you try to die- The Easier to let go- For recollecting such as went- You could not spare-you know.
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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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If I shouldn't be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
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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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Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play -- In accidental power -- The blonde Assassin passes on -- The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God.
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a sick room is at times too sacred a place for a friend's knock, timid as that is.
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When everything that ticked has stopped, and space stares, all around, or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, repeal the beating ground.
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Love is like life-merely longer.
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Hope is a thing with feathers
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For love is immortality.
Emily Dickinson
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The Service without Hope Is tenderest, I think-- ... There is no Diligence like that That knows not an Until
Emily Dickinson
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Elysium is as far as to The very nearest room, If in that room a friend await Felicity of doom.
Emily Dickinson
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That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.
Emily Dickinson