Quote

If I shouldn't be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.

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
Life
Robins
Memorial
Red
Shouldn
Alive
Give
Come
Crumb
Giving
Crumbs

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Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.
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Why should we censure Othello when the Criterion Lover says, Thou shalt have no other Gods before Me?
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I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.
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I fear a Man of frugal speech - I fear a Silent Man - Haranguer - I can overtake - Or Babbler - entertain - But He who weigheth - While the Rest - Expend their furthest pound - Of this Man - I am wary - I fear that He is Grand -
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PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there's a word to lift your hat to... to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.
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You left me boundaries of pain Capacious as the sea, Between eternity and time, Your consciousness and me.
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Home is the definition of God.
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The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
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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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Forever - is composed of Nows - 'Tis not a different time... Let Months dissolve in further Months - And Years - exhale in Years.
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My only sketch, profile, of Heaven is a large blue sky, and larger than the biggest I have seen in June - and in it are my friends - every one of them.
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Publication - is the auction of the mind.
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Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies
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When I state myself, as the representative of the verse, it does not mean me, but a supposed person.
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Good times are always mutual that is what makes good times.
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If Aims impel these Astral Ones The ones allowed to know Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now
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March is the month of expectation, The things we do not know, The Persons of Prognostication Are coming now. We try to sham becoming firmness, But pompous joy Betrays us, as his first betrothal Betrays a boy.
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Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on.
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I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious
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Truth - is as old as God-.
Emily Dickinson