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Nature is what we know - Yet have not art to say - So impotent our wisdom is To her simplicity.

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
Impotent
Simplicity
Wisdom
Art
Nature

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The vastest earthly Day Is shrunken small By one Defaulting Face Behind a Pall.
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That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.
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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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Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
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The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend, - Or the most agonizing Spy - An Enemy - could send -
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THE soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling her. Depart, before the host has slid The bolt upon the door, To seek for the accomplished guest, -- Her visitor no more.
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To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—
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God's unique capacity is too surprising to surprise.
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Had we less to say to those we love, perhaps we should say it oftener.
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... And then I heard them lift a box, And creak across my soul With those same boots of lead, again, Then space began to toll.
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A Bayonet's contrition is nothing to the dead.
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Beauty crowds me till I die. Beauty, mercy have on me! Yet if I expire to-day Let it be in sight of thee!
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Much Madness is divinest Sense -- To a discerning Eye -- Much Sense -- the starkest Madness -- 'Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail -- Assent -- and you are sane -- Demur -- you're straightway dangerous -- And handled with a Chain --
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The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.
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We never know we go when we are going- We jest and shut the Door- Fate-following-behind us bolts it- And we accost no more-.
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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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To be alive is power existence in itself without a further function omnipotence.
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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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Prosperity Whose sources are interior. As soon Adversity A diamond overtake.
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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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