Quote

His Labor is a Chant - His Idleness -a Tune - Oh, for a Bee's experience Of Clovers, and of Noon!

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
Tunes
Clovers
Labor
Chant
Experience
Noon
Idleness
Insects
Tune
Bees

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The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,-- The sweeping up the heart, And putting love away We shall not want to use again Until eternity
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Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.
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Heart, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim Haste! lest while you’re lagging, I may remember him!
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A Letter is a Joy of Earth - It is denied the Gods
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A Murmur in the Trees - to note - Not loud enough - for Wind - A Star - not far enough to seek - Nor near enough - to find
Emily Dickinson
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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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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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To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
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Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.
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Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
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You left me boundaries of pain Capacious as the sea, Between eternity and time, Your consciousness and me.
Emily Dickinson
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The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.
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Our little kinsmen after rain In plenty may be seen, a pink and pulpy multitude The tepid ground upon A needless life if seemed to me Until a little bird As to a hospitality Advanced and breakfasted.
Emily Dickinson
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Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne'er succeed.
Emily Dickinson
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Will you tell me my fault, frankly as to yourself, for I had rather wince, than die. Men do not call the surgeon to commend the bone, but to set it, Sir.
Emily Dickinson
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Nods from the Gilded pointers - Nods from the Seconds slim - Decades of Arrogance between The Dial life - And Him -
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If you take care of the small things, the big things take care of themselves. You can gain more control over your life by paying closer attention to the little things.
Emily Dickinson
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I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.
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The Spirit lurks within the Flesh Like Tides within the Sea That make the Water live, estranged What would the Either be?
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Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes
Emily Dickinson