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To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know, who charge within the bosom, the Cavalry of Woe.
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
Woe
Bravery
Charge
Brave
Sorrow
Cavalry
Fight
Aloud
Within
Bosom
Fighting
Bosoms
More quotes by Emily Dickinson
I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven Yet certain am I of the spot, As if a chart were given.
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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 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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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.
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LOOK back on time with kindly eyes, He doubtless did his best How softly sinks his trembling sun In human nature's west!
Emily Dickinson
The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care
Emily Dickinson
The vastest earthly Day Is shrunken small By one Defaulting Face Behind a Pall.
Emily Dickinson
The minister today preached about death and judgment, and what would become of those who behaved improperly - and somehow it scared me. He preached such an awful sermon I didn't think I should ever see you again until the Judgment Day. The subject of perdition seemed to please him somehow.
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The only secret people keep is immortality.
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Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.
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The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.
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Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
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The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee.
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The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.
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A Murmur in the Trees - to note - Not loud enough - for Wind - A Star - not far enough to seek - Nor near enough - to find
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a sick room is at times too sacred a place for a friend's knock, timid as that is.
Emily Dickinson
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?
Emily Dickinson
A charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld,— The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled. But peers beyond her mesh, And wishes, and denies,— Lest interview annul a want That image satisfies.
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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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Not to discover weakness is The Artifice of strength.
Emily Dickinson