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Beauty is not the cause of something, it is what it is.

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
Cause
Causes
Beauty
Something

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A Word that Breathes Distinctly Has not the Power to Die
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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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Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
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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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His Labor is a Chant - His Idleness -a Tune - Oh, for a Bee's experience Of Clovers, and of Noon!
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Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence - is denied them. They fling their Speech By means of it - in God's Ear - If then He hear - This sums the Apparatus Comprised in Prayer
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The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.
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Prayer is the little implement through which men reach where presence is denied them.
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Eden is that old-fashioned house we dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode until we drive away.
Emily Dickinson
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And you dropt, lost, When something broke-- And let you from a Dream
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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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My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - In Corners - till a Day The Owner passed - identified - And carried Me away -
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Sunrise: day's great progenitor.
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Faith is a fine invention When gentlemen can see, But microscopes are prudent In an emergency.
Emily Dickinson
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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.
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I stepped from Plank to Plank A slow and cautious way
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Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.
Emily Dickinson
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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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Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
Emily Dickinson
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September's Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets - Crows - and Retrospects And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming - An Innuendo sear That makes the Heart put up its Fun And turn Philosopher.
Emily Dickinson