Quote

A color stands abroad on solitary hills that silence cannot overtake, but human nature feels.

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
Stands
Color
Silence
Nature
Cannot
Overtake
Human
Abroad
Humans
Solitary
Feels
Hills

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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
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I tasted - careless - then - I did not know the Wine Came once a World - Did you? Oh, had you told me so - This Thirst would blister - easier - now
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It is finished, is never said of us
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The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small- Better an ignis fatuus Than no illume at all.
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You are nipping in the bud fancies which I let blossom. The shore is safer, but I love to buffet the sea - I can count the bitter wrecks here in these pleasant waters, and hear the murmuring winds, but oh, I love the danger!
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Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.
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We trust in plumed procession For such the angels go Rank after rank, with even feet/And uniforms of snow.
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Find ecstasy in life the mere sense of living is joy enough.
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Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity - Unable they that love - to die For Love reforms Vitality Into Divinity.
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Endow the Living - with the Tears - You squander on the Dead.
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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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All things do go a-courting, In earth, or sea, or air, God hath made nothing single But thee in His world so fair.
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We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.
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He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on He stuns you by degrees. Prepares your brittle substance For the ethereal blow by fainter hammers, further heard, Then nearer, then so slow Your breath has time to straighten Your brain to bubble cool,- Deals one imperial thunderbolt That scalps your naked soul.
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Saying nothing... sometimes says the most.
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I can wade Grief -- Whole Pools of it -- I'm used to that -- But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet -- And I tip -- drunken -- Let no Pebble -- smile -- 'Twas the New Liquor -- That was all!
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Assent - and you are sane - Demur - and you're straightaway dangerous - and handled with a chain.
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Prayer is the little implement through which men reach where presence is denied them.
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I stepped from Plank to Plank A slow and cautious way
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There's a certain Slant of light, Winter afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us— We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are.... When it comes, the Landscape listens— Shadows—hold their breath— When it goes, 'tis like the Distance On the look of Death.
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