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I dwell in possiblities.

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
Dwell

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The Spider as an Artist Has never been employed- Though his surpassing Merit Is freely certified.
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Wonder is not precisely knowing.
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Not if Their Party were waiting, Not if to talk with Me Were to Them now, Homesickness After Eternity.
Emily Dickinson
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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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A color stands abroad on solitary hills that silence cannot overtake, but human nature feels.
Emily Dickinson
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After a hundred years Nobody knows the place, Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace.
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The only secret people keep is immortality.
Emily Dickinson
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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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God's unique capacity is too surprising to surprise.
Emily Dickinson
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His Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush.
Emily Dickinson
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An altered look about the hills A Tyrian light the village fills A wider sunrise in the dawn A deeper twilight on the lawn A print of a vermilion foot A purple finger on the slope A flippant fly upon the pane A spider at his trade again An added strut in chanticleer A flower expected everywhere.
Emily Dickinson
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To shut your eyes is to travel.
Emily Dickinson
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The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man.
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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
Emily Dickinson
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Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.
Emily Dickinson
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Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea Past the houses, past the headlands Into deep eternity! Bred as we, among the mountains Can the sailor understand The divine intoxication Of the first league out from land?
Emily Dickinson
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The WILL is always near, dear, though the feet vary.
Emily Dickinson
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A Bayonet's contrition is nothing to the dead.
Emily Dickinson
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Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play -- In accidental power -- The blonde Assassin passes on -- The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God.
Emily Dickinson
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When I state myself, as the representative of the verse, it does not mean me, but a supposed person.
Emily Dickinson