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Endow the Living - with the Tears - You squander on the Dead.

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
Tears
Loss
Dead
Living
Endow
Squander

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When a Lover is a Beggar Abject is his Knee. When a Lover is an Owner Different is he.
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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!
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Not if Their Party were waiting, Not if to talk with Me Were to Them now, Homesickness After Eternity.
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Best Witchcraft is Geometry To the magician's mind - His ordinary acts are feats To thinking of mankind.
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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
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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.
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For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
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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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I stepped from Plank to Plank A slow and cautious way
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Beauty is not the cause of something, it is what it is.
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Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate.
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Find ecstasy in life the mere sense of living is joy enough.
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Luck is not chance, it's toil fortune's expensive smile is earned.
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
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I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy I said: 'T will keep. I woke and chid my honest fingers,— The gem was gone And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.
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I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious
Emily Dickinson
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Assent - and you are sane - Demur - and you're straightaway dangerous - and handled with a chain.
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I would paint a portrait which would bring the tears, had I canvas for it, and the scene should be -- solitude, and the figures -- solitude -- and the lights and shades, each a solitude.
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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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My life closed twice before its close
Emily Dickinson