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Beauty crowds me till I die. Beauty, mercy have on me! Yet if I expire to-day Let it be in sight of thee!

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
Expire
Crowds
Till
Mercy
Thee
Sight
Beauty
Dies

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A dim capacity for wings demeans the dress I wear.
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I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.
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I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven Yet certain am I of the spot, As if a chart were given.
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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.
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Such is the force of Happiness-- The Least can lift a ton Assisted by its stimulus.
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March is the month of expectation, The things we do not know, The Persons of Prognostication Are coming now. We try to sham becoming firmness, But pompous joy Betrays us, as his first betrothal Betrays a boy.
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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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My life closed twice before its close
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The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.
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Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
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Answer July- Where is the Bee- Where is the Blush- Where is the Hay? Ah, said July- Where is the Seed- Where is the Bud- Where is the May- Answer Thee-Me-
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I dwell in possiblities.
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They say that “Time assuages” - Time never did assuage - An actual suffering strengthens As Sinews do, with age - Time is a Test of Trouble - But not a Remedy - If such it prove, it prove too There was no Malady
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The power to console is not within corporeal reach - though its attempt is precious.
Emily Dickinson
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A wounded deer leaps the highest.
Emily Dickinson
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Mirth is the Mail of Anguish --
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Best Witchcraft is Geometry To the magician's mind - His ordinary acts are feats To thinking of mankind.
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To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know, who charge within the bosom, the Cavalry of Woe.
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The steeples swam in amethyst, the news like squirrels swam.
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Nature is what we know - Yet have not art to say - So impotent our wisdom is To her simplicity.
Emily Dickinson