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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
Causes
Beauty
Something
Cause

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And you dropt, lost, When something broke-- And let you from a Dream
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... And then I heard them lift a box, And creak across my soul With those same boots of lead, again, Then space began to toll.
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Fame is a bee It has a song - It has a sting - Ah, too, it has a wing.
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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.
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This is my letter to the world That never wrote to me
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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.
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We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.
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If you take care of the small things, the big things take care of themselves. You can gain more control over your life by paying closer attention to the little things.
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The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.
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Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.
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If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.
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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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A dim capacity for wings demeans the dress I wear.
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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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Here is a little forest Whose leaf is ever green Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum Prithee, my brother, Into my garden come!
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I dwell in possibilities... a fairer house than prose.
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PRESENTIMENT is that long shadow on the lawn Indicative that suns go down The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
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Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
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I am one of the lingering bad ones, and so do I slink away, and pause, and ponder, and ponder, and pause, and do work without knowing why - not surely for this brief world, and more sure it is not for heaven - and I ask what this message of Christ means.
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