Quote

LOOK back on time with kindly eyes, He doubtless did his best How softly sinks his trembling sun In human nature's west!

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
Best
Softly
Look
Trembling
Human
West
Humans
Sun
Looks
Eyes
Sinks
Time
Eye
Doubtless
Nature
Calendars
Back
Kindly

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They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
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Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye It bears the Soul as bold As it were rocked in Steel With Arms of Steel at either side— It joins—behind the Veil To what, could We presume The Bridge would cease to be To Our far, vacillating Feet A first Necessity.
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Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity - Unable they that love - to die For Love reforms Vitality Into Divinity.
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Celebrity is the chastisement of merit and the punishment of talent.
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Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate, Whose table once a Guest, but not The second time, is set. Whose crumbs the crows inspect, And with ironic caw Flap past it to the Farmer's corn Men eat of it and die.
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I tasted - careless - then - I did not know the Wine Came once a World - Did you? Oh, had you told me so - This Thirst would blister - easier - now
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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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Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide, But during March and April None stir abroad Without a cordial interview With God.
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Heaven is so far of the mind that were the mind dissolved - the site of it by architect could not again be proved.
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After a hundred years Nobody knows the place, Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace.
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Memory is a strange Bell—Jubilee, and Knell.
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Affection is like bread, unnoticed till we starve, and then we dream of it, and sing of it, and paint it, when every urchin in the street has more than he can eat.
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I can wade Grief -- Whole Pools of it -- I'm used to that -- But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet -- And I tip -- drunken -- Let no Pebble -- smile -- 'Twas the New Liquor -- That was all!
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Truth - is as old as God-.
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