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I stepped from Plank to Plank A slow and cautious way

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
Way
Plank
Stepped
Cautious
Caution
Slow

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One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
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I dwell in possibilities... a fairer house than prose.
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I would paint a portrait which would bring the tears, had I canvas for it, and the scene should be -- solitude, and the figures -- solitude -- and the lights and shades, each a solitude.
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To be alive──is Power.
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Beauty is not caused. It is.
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God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me.
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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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The Pleading of the Summer - That other Prank - of Snow - That Cushions Mystery with Tulle, For fear the Squirrels - know.
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The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
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That short, potential stir That each can make but once, That bustle so illustrious Tis almost consequence, Is the eclat of death.
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Pain - has an Element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun - or if there were a time when it was not - It has no Future - but itself - Its Infinite contain Its Past - enlightened to perceive New Periods - of Pain.
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Anger as soon as fed is dead- 'Tis starving makes it fat.
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Life is so rotatory that the wilderness falls to each, sometime.
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The only secret people keep is immortality.
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Which Anguish was the utterest--then-- To perish, or to live?
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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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PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there's a word to lift your hat to... to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.
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The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.
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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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To see her is a picture- To hear her is a tune- To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June- To know her not-Affliction- To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the the Sun Were shining in your Hand.
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