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The friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.
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
Anguish
Friend
Friends
Slowest
Forgot
Reveals
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Hope is a thing with feathers
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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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Beauty is not caused. It is.
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The vastest earthly Day Is shrunken small By one Defaulting Face Behind a Pall.
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Luck is not chance, it's toil fortune's expensive smile is earned.
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Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs.
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I dwell in possibility.
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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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Endow the Living - with the Tears - You squander on the Dead.
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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
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This is my letter to the world That never wrote to me
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Forever is made up of nows.
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Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.
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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.
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Love is like life-merely longer.
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Good times are always mutual that is what makes good times.
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Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
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God's unique capacity is too surprising to surprise.
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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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Life is so rotatory that the wilderness falls to each, sometime.
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