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If Aims impel these Astral Ones The ones allowed to know Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now
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
Impel
Atheism
Ones
Astral
Forget
Forgets
Makes
Aims
Forgot
Dawn
Aim
Allowed
More quotes by Emily Dickinson
To possess is past the instant we achieve the joy, immortality contented, were anomaly.
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Friends are nations in themselves.
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The Brain is just the weight of God-- For--Heft them--Pound for Pound-- And they will differ--if they do-- As Syllable from Sound
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Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
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They might not need me but they might. I'll let my head be just in sight a smile as small as mine might be precisely their necessity.
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A Bayonet's contrition is nothing to the dead.
Emily Dickinson
The Pleading of the Summer - That other Prank - of Snow - That Cushions Mystery with Tulle, For fear the Squirrels - know.
Emily Dickinson
Those who have not found the heaven below, will fail of it above.
Emily Dickinson
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.
Emily Dickinson
God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.
Emily Dickinson
This is the Hour of Lead- Remembered, if outlived, As freezing persons, recollect the Snow- First-Chill-then Stupor- then the letting go---
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Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit-Life!
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This is my letter to the world That never wrote to me
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I dwell in possibilities... a fairer house than prose.
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A Deed knocks first at Thought And then - it knocks at Will - That is the manufacturing spot.
Emily Dickinson
To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know, who charge within the bosom, the Cavalry of Woe.
Emily Dickinson
One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
Emily Dickinson
His Labor is a Chant - His Idleness -a Tune - Oh, for a Bee's experience Of Clovers, and of Noon!
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There is no Frigate like a book to take us lands away nor any coursers like a page of prancing Poetry.
Emily Dickinson
Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.
Emily Dickinson