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Home is the definition of God.

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
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Definitions
God

More quotes by Emily Dickinson

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Faith is a fine invention When gentlemen can see, But microscopes are prudent In an emergency.
Emily Dickinson
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'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with Daisies lie- That Commerce will continue- And Trades as briskly fly.
Emily Dickinson
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When a Lover is a Beggar Abject is his Knee. When a Lover is an Owner Different is he.
Emily Dickinson
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A wounded deer leaps the highest.
Emily Dickinson
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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
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Two Seasons, it is said, exist- The Summer of the Just, And this of Ours, diversified With Prospect, and with Frost- May not our Second with its First So infinite compare That We but recollect the one The other to prefer?
Emily Dickinson
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The only secret people keep is immortality.
Emily Dickinson
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You cannot fold a flood and put it in a drawer, because the winds would find it out and tell your cedar floor.
Emily Dickinson
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The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.
Emily Dickinson
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A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore A privilege I think.
Emily Dickinson
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The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.
Emily Dickinson
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A dim capacity for wings demeans the dress I wear.
Emily Dickinson
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Publication - is the auction of the mind.
Emily Dickinson
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When we think of his lone effort to live and its bleak reward, the mind turns to the myth for His mercy endureth forever, with confiding revulsion.
Emily Dickinson
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If fame belonged to me, I could not escape her if she did not, the longest day would pass me on the chase, and the approbation of my dog would forsake me.
Emily Dickinson
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Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.
Emily Dickinson
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Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes
Emily Dickinson
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I dwell in Possibility A fairer house than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior — for Doors.
Emily Dickinson
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The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee.
Emily Dickinson
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How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.
Emily Dickinson