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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.

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
Dies
Deity
Love
Deities
Vitality
Unable
Divinity
Immortality
Reform
Loved
Reforms

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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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To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
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Fortune befriends the bold.
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The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care
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Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!
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A Toad, can die of Light - Death is the Common Right Of Toads and Men
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You cannot fold a flood and put it in a drawer, because the winds would find it out and tell your cedar floor.
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Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
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Love is like life-merely longer.
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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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I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.
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She died--this was the way she died And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.
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The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
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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...
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As Summer into Autumn slips And yet we sooner say The Summer than the Autumn, lest We turn the sun away, And almost count it an Affront The presence to concede Of one however lovely, not The one that we have loved - So we evade the charge of Years On one attempting shy The Circumvention of the Shaft Of Life's Declivity.
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When we think of his lone effort to live and its bleak reward, the mind turns to the myth for His mercy endureth forever, with confiding revulsion.
Emily Dickinson
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The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.
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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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The last of Summer is Delight - Deterred by Retrospect. 'Tis Ecstasy's revealed Review - Enchantment's Syndicate. To meet it - nameless as it is - Without celestial Mail - Audacious as without a Knock To walk within the Veil.
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Safe Despair it is that raves- Agony is frugal. Puts itself severe away For its own perusal.
Emily Dickinson