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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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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
Superiors
Window
Possibility
Fairer
Doors
Numerous
House
Dwell
Windows
Superior
Prose

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What Soft--Cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen are-- One would as soon assault a Plush-- Or violate a Star
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The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on.
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The power to console is not within corporeal reach - though its attempt is precious.
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We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.
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Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs.
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Beauty is not caused. It is.
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The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
Emily Dickinson
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I hope you're very careful working, eating and drinking when the heat is so great--there are temptations there which at home you are free from--beware the juicy fruits, and the cooling ades, and cordials, and do not eat ice-cream, it is so very dangerous.
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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This is the Hour of Lead- Remembered, if outlived, As freezing persons, recollect the Snow- First-Chill-then Stupor- then the letting go---
Emily Dickinson
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One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
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Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.
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How lucious lies the pea within the pod.
Emily Dickinson
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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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The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee.
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She died--this was the way she died And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.
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A Deed knocks first at Thought And then - it knocks at Will - That is the manufacturing spot.
Emily Dickinson
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Friends are nations in themselves.
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This is my letter to the world That never wrote to me
Emily Dickinson
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Luck is not chance, it's toil fortune's expensive smile is earned.
Emily Dickinson