Quote

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

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
Syllable
Syllables
Differ
Pound
Pounds
Weight
Brain
Sound
Heft

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Prosperity Whose sources are interior. As soon Adversity A diamond overtake.
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My life closed twice before its close
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He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust.
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Eternity' is there, We say, as of a station. Meanwhile, he is so near, He joins me in my Ramble? Divides abode with me? No Friend have I that so persists As this Eternity.
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Those who lift their hats shall see Nature as devout do God.
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It is easy to work when the soul is at play.
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Why should we censure Othello when the Criterion Lover says, Thou shalt have no other Gods before Me?
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God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me.
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Hope is a thing with feathers
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Twin loaves of bread have just been born into the world under my auspices. Fine children, the image of their mother. And here, my dear friend, is the glory.
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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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Those who have not found the heaven below, will fail of it above.
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The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.
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I could not stop for death and he did not stop for me.
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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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The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
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Angels in the early morning may be seen the dews among. Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying. Do the buds to them belong?
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Nature is what we see - the hill, the afternoon, squirrel, eclipse, the bumblebee. Nay, nature is heaven. Nature is what we hear...
Emily Dickinson
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Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
Emily Dickinson
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I dwell in possibilities... a fairer house than prose.
Emily Dickinson