Emily Dickinson Quotes

This is my letter to the world That never wrote to me

a sick room is at times too sacred a place for a friend's knock, timid as that is.

Experiment has a stimulus which withers its fear.

It is true that the unknown is the largest need of the intellect, though for it, no one thinks to thank God.

We outgrow love like other things and put it in a drawer, till it an antique fashion shows like costumes grandsires wore.

The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.

It is essential to the sanity of mankind that each one should think the other crazy - a condition with which the cynicism of human nature so cordially complies, one could wish it were a concurrence upon a subject more noble.

Inebriate of air am I, And debauchee of dew, Reeling, through endless summer days, From inns of molten blue.

I fear a Man of frugal speech - I fear a Silent Man - Haranguer - I can overtake - Or Babbler - entertain - But He who weigheth - While the Rest - Expend their furthest pound - Of this Man - I am wary - I fear that He is Grand -

Portrait The world spreads out on either side no farther than the heart is wide.

I have an appetite for silence.

The Crime, from us, is hidden, [though] he is presumed to know.

I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: "'T will keep." I woke and chid my honest fingers,— The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.

I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.

My business is circumference.

... I have no letter from the dead, yet daily love them more.

These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.

The hearts that never lean must fall.

They say that “Time assuages” - Time never did assuage - An actual suffering strengthens As Sinews do, with age - Time is a Test of Trouble - But not a Remedy - If such it prove, it prove too There was no Malady

A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.

Wonder is not precisely knowing.

Love is its own rescue; for we, at our supremest, are but its trembling emblems.

Witchcraft was hung, in History, But History and I Find all the Witchcraft that we need Around us, every Day -

I . . . am small, like the wren, and my hair is bold like the chestnut burr; and my eyes like the sherry in the glass that the guest leaves.

Good times are always mutual; that is what makes good times.

Truth - is as old as God-.

Action is redemption.

Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I'd rather suit my foot Than save my Boot -- For yet to buy another Pair is possible, At any store -- But Bliss, is sold just once. The Patent lost None buy it any more --

It is finished, is never said of us

The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee.

Life is a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it.

Sweet Skepticism of the Heart That knows and does not know And tosses like a Fleet of Balm Affronted by the snow.

My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them. They tell me those who were poor early have different views of gold. I don't know how that is. God is not so wary as we, else He would give us no friends, lest we forget Him.

Sunrise: day's great progenitor.

Expectation is contentment - Gain satiety.

We turn not older with years but newer every day.

Love can do all but raise the Dead.

The power to console is not within corporeal reach - though its attempt is precious.

Longing, it may be, is the gift no other gift supplies.

Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.

I took my Power in my Hand -- And went against the World -- 'Twas not so much as David -- had -- But I -- was twice as bold -- I aimed by Pebble -- but Myself Was all the one that fell -- Was it Goliath -- was too large -- Or was myself -- too small?

I do not feel I could give up all for Christ, were I called to die.

Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.

If fame belonged to me, I could not escape her; if she did not, the longest day would pass me on the chase, and the approbation of my dog would forsake me.

Vinnie rocks her Garden and moans that God won't help her. I suppose he is too busy getting angry with the Wicked every day.

After great pain, a formal feeling comes — The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs — The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, And Yesterday, or Centuries before? The Feet, mechanical, go round — Of Ground, or Air, or Ought — A Wooden way Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone — This is the Hour of Lead — Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow — First — Chill — then Stupor — then the letting go —

Life is so rotatory that the wilderness falls to each, sometime.

Bring me the sunset in a cup.