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
Pounds
Weight
Brain
Sound
Heft
Syllable
Syllables
Differ
Pound

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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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For love is immortality.
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Besides the Autumn poets sing, A few prosaic days, A little this side of the snow, And that side of the Haze..., Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind- Thy windy will to bear!
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Love can do all but raise the Dead I doubt if even that From such a giant were withheld Were flesh equivalent But love is tired and must sleep, And hungry and must graze And so abets the shining Fleet Till it is out of gaze.
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God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.
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Fearless--the cobweb swings from the ceiling-- Indolent Housewife--in Daisies--lain!
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Anger as soon as fed is dead- 'Tis starving makes it fat.
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Fortune befriends the bold.
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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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Eden is that old-fashioned house we dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode until we drive away.
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Two Seasons, it is said, exist- The Summer of the Just, And this of Ours, diversified With Prospect, and with Frost- May not our Second with its First So infinite compare That We but recollect the one The other to prefer?
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Beauty crowds me till I die. Beauty, mercy have on me! Yet if I expire to-day Let it be in sight of thee!
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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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Heart, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim Haste! lest while you’re lagging, I may remember him!
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A Murmur in the Trees - to note - Not loud enough - for Wind - A Star - not far enough to seek - Nor near enough - to find
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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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Why should we censure Othello when the Criterion Lover says, Thou shalt have no other Gods before Me?
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To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
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One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
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The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.
Emily Dickinson