Quote

I had a terror-since September -I could tell to none-and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground-because I am afraid.

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
Doe
Terror
Sing
Ground
None
Afraid
Boys
Since
Burying
Tell
September

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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
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Renunciation-is a piercing Virtue-The letting go A Presence-for an Expectation-.
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Pain - has an Element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun - or if there were a time when it was not - It has no Future - but itself - Its Infinite contain Its Past - enlightened to perceive New Periods - of Pain.
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To lose what we have never owned might seem an eccentric bereavement, but Presumption has its own affliction as well as claim.
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I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? Then there's a pair of us? Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know! How dreary – to be – Somebody! How public – like a Frog – To tell one's name – the livelong June – To an admiring Bog!
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The things of which we want the proof are those we know the best.
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Witchcraft was hung, in History, But History and I Find all the Witchcraft that we need Around us, every Day -
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The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend, - Or the most agonizing Spy - An Enemy - could send -
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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.
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As Summer into Autumn slips And yet we sooner say The Summer than the Autumn, lest We turn the sun away, And almost count it an Affront The presence to concede Of one however lovely, not The one that we have loved - So we evade the charge of Years On one attempting shy The Circumvention of the Shaft Of Life's Declivity.
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Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.
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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
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Some Arrows slay but whom they strike - But this slew all but him - Who so appareled his Escape - Too trackless for a Tomb
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A dim capacity for wings demeans the dress I wear.
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The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care
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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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[A] mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled.
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