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A Toad, can die of Light - Death is the Common Right Of Toads and Men

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
Death
Light
Right
Men
Toad
Toads
Dies
Common

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One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
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To possess is past the instant we achieve the joy, immortality contented, were anomaly.
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Those who lift their hats shall see Nature as devout do God.
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Renunciation-is a piercing Virtue-The letting go A Presence-for an Expectation-.
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I cannot live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
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I dwell in Possibility A fairer House than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior--for Doors Of Chambers as the Cedars Impregnable of Eye And for an Everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky Of Visitors--the fairest For Occupation--This The spreading wide my narrow Hands To gather Paradise
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Anger as soon as fed is dead- 'Tis starving makes it fat.
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Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne'er succeed.
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Where thou art, that is home.
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You remember my ideal cat has always a huge rat in its mouth, just going out of sight - though going out of sight in itself has a peculiar pleasure.
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His Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush.
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You cannot put a fire out! A thing that can ignite can go itself- without a flame- E'en through the darkest night!
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The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy.
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To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
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I would paint a portrait which would bring the tears, had I canvas for it, and the scene should be -- solitude, and the figures -- solitude -- and the lights and shades, each a solitude.
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Here is a little forest Whose leaf is ever green Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum Prithee, my brother, Into my garden come!
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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.
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The Service without Hope Is tenderest, I think-- ... There is no Diligence like that That knows not an Until
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