Quote

Open your life wide, and take me in forever. I will never be tired-I will never be noisy when you want to be still...nobody else will see me, but you-but that is enough-I shall not want any more.

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
Enough
Nobody
Never
Shall
Life
Open
Forever
Else
Stills
Noisy
Still
Wide
Take
Tired

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Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate, Whose table once a Guest, but not The second time, is set. Whose crumbs the crows inspect, And with ironic caw Flap past it to the Farmer's corn Men eat of it and die.
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He deposes Doom Who hath suffered him.
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To possess is past the instant we achieve the joy, immortality contented, were anomaly.
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I took one Draught of Life - I'll tell you what I paid - Precisely an existence - The market price, they said.
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Not to discover weakness is The Artifice of strength.
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I dwell in possibilities... a fairer house than prose.
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Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs.
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An altered look about the hills A Tyrian light the village fills A wider sunrise in the dawn A deeper twilight on the lawn A print of a vermilion foot A purple finger on the slope A flippant fly upon the pane A spider at his trade again An added strut in chanticleer A flower expected everywhere.
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The only secret people keep is immortality.
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The Brain is just the weight of God-- For--Heft them--Pound for Pound-- And they will differ--if they do-- As Syllable from Sound
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Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it, Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee, Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it, Not to partake thy passion, my humility.
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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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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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November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.
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Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth
Emily Dickinson
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To be alive is power existence in itself without a further function omnipotence.
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The career of flowers differs from ours only inaudibleness.
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Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.
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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
Emily Dickinson