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The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.

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
Utter
Frequently
Unhappiness
Rose
Morning
Way
Jubilee
Surpasses
Woe

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Other Courtesies have been - Other Courtesy may be - We commend ourselves to thee Paragon of Chivalry.
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People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.
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If I shouldn't be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
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Faith is a fine invention When gentlemen can see, But microscopes are prudent In an emergency.
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You'll find it-when you try to die- The Easier to let go- For recollecting such as went- You could not spare-you know.
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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
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November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.
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Home is the definition of God.
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Fearless--the cobweb swings from the ceiling-- Indolent Housewife--in Daisies--lain!
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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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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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The only Commandment I ever obeyed — 'Consider the Lilies.
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a sick room is at times too sacred a place for a friend's knock, timid as that is.
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Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes
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Those who have not found the heaven below, will fail of it above.
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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
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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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