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Twin loaves of bread have just been born into the world under my auspices. Fine children, the image of their mother. And here, my dear friend, is the glory.
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
Mother
Twins
Children
Bread
World
Image
Dear
Glory
Friend
Auspices
Fine
Loaves
Born
Twin
More quotes by Emily Dickinson
You remember my ideal cat has always a huge rat in its mouth, just going out of sight - though going out of sight in itself has a peculiar pleasure.
Emily Dickinson
Those who have not found the heaven below, will fail of it above.
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Tell all the Truth but tell it slant-- Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth's superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind--
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The career of flowers differs from ours only inaudibleness.
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I think Heaven will not be as good as earth, unless it bring with it that sweet power to remember, which is the staple of Heaven here.
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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
Emily Dickinson
Heart, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim Haste! lest while you’re lagging, I may remember him!
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You are out of the way of temptation and out of the way of the tempter - I didn't mean to make you wicked - but I was - and am - and shall be - and I was with you so much that I couldn't help contaminate.
Emily Dickinson
Luck is not chance, it's toil fortune's expensive smile is earned.
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I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.
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The Spirit lurks within the Flesh Like Tides within the Sea That make the Water live, estranged What would the Either be?
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All things do go a-courting, In earth, or sea, or air, God hath made nothing single But thee in His world so fair.
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I could not prove the Years had feet-/Yet confident they run.
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The friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.
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We trust in plumed procession For such the angels go Rank after rank, with even feet/And uniforms of snow.
Emily Dickinson
[A] mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled.
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Not to discover weakness is The Artifice of strength.
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Memory is a strange Bell—Jubilee, and Knell.
Emily Dickinson
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.
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Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
Emily Dickinson