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Friends are nations in themselves.

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
Friends
Nations

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This is my letter to the world That never wrote to me
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For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
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They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
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After a hundred years Nobody knows the place, Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace.
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We trust in plumed procession For such the angels go Rank after rank, with even feet/And uniforms of snow.
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A Deed knocks first at Thought And then - it knocks at Will - That is the manufacturing spot.
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The past is not a package one can lay away.
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That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.
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Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes
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Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.
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Forever is made up of nows.
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The brain is wider than the sky.
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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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Had we less to say to those we love, perhaps we should say it oftener.
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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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I dwell in possibilities... a fairer house than prose.
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A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore A privilege I think.
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His Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush.
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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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What Soft--Cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen are-- One would as soon assault a Plush-- Or violate a Star
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