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A dim capacity for wings demeans the dress I wear.

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
Wear
Capacity
Philosophy
Demeans
Dress
Dresses
Wings

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The things of which we want the proof are those we know the best.
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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 past is not a package one can lay away.
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A color stands abroad on solitary hills that silence cannot overtake, but human nature feels.
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I dwell in Possibility A fairer House than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior--for Doors Of Chambers as the Cedars Impregnable of Eye And for an Everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky Of Visitors--the fairest For Occupation--This The spreading wide my narrow Hands To gather Paradise
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Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies
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Wonder is not precisely knowing.
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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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Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.
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If Aims impel these Astral Ones The ones allowed to know Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now
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Saying nothing... sometimes says the most.
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The steeples swam in amethyst, the news like squirrels swam.
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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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Some Arrows slay but whom they strike - But this slew all but him - Who so appareled his Escape - Too trackless for a Tomb
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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 “Time assuages” - Time never did assuage - An actual suffering strengthens As Sinews do, with age - Time is a Test of Trouble - But not a Remedy - If such it prove, it prove too There was no Malady
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To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
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The Spider as an Artist Has never been employed- Though his surpassing Merit Is freely certified.
Emily Dickinson
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The Crime, from us, is hidden, [though] he is presumed to know.
Emily Dickinson
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His Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush.
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