Quote

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.

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
May
Seemed
Tepid
Little
Ground
Needless
Life
Rain
Multitude
Bird
Hospitality
Garden
Pink
Seen
Multitudes
Upon
Advanced
Pulpy
Littles
Plenty
Kinsmen

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Sweet Skepticism of the Heart That knows and does not know And tosses like a Fleet of Balm Affronted by the snow.
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To shut your eyes is to travel.
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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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Faith is a fine invention When gentlemen can see, But microscopes are prudent In an emergency.
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I had a terror-since September -I could tell to none-and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground-because I am afraid.
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Existence has overpowered Books. Today I slew a Mushroom.
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Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne'er succeed.
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I dwell in possiblities.
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A color stands abroad on solitary hills that silence cannot overtake, but human nature feels.
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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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Nature is what we see - the hill, the afternoon, squirrel, eclipse, the bumblebee. Nay, nature is heaven. Nature is what we hear...
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Affection is like bread, unnoticed till we starve, and then we dream of it, and sing of it, and paint it, when every urchin in the street has more than he can eat.
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The Crime, from us, is hidden, [though] he is presumed to know.
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Here is a little forest Whose leaf is ever green Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum Prithee, my brother, Into my garden come!
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Hope is a thing with feathers
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