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Common sense is almost as omniscient as God.

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
Almost
Common
Sense
Omniscient

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The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.
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Which Anguish was the utterest--then-- To perish, or to live?
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September's Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets - Crows - and Retrospects And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming - An Innuendo sear That makes the Heart put up its Fun And turn Philosopher.
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I dwell in possibilities .
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We never know we go when we are going- We jest and shut the Door- Fate-following-behind us bolts it- And we accost no more-.
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The brain is wider than the sky.
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Forever is composed of Nows— 'Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home
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The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.
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'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with Daisies lie- That Commerce will continue- And Trades as briskly fly.
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Nods from the Gilded pointers - Nods from the Seconds slim - Decades of Arrogance between The Dial life - And Him -
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I took one Draught of Life - I'll tell you what I paid - Precisely an existence - The market price, they said.
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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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Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
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I dwell in possibilities... a fairer house than prose.
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He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on He stuns you by degrees. Prepares your brittle substance For the ethereal blow by fainter hammers, further heard, Then nearer, then so slow Your breath has time to straighten Your brain to bubble cool,- Deals one imperial thunderbolt That scalps your naked soul.
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
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I dwell in possiblities.
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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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My business is circumference.
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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
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