Quotes from Emily Dickinson

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself, Its infinite realms contain Its past, enlightened to perceive New periods of pain.

The spreading wide my narrow Hands To gather Paradise.

Tell the truth, but tell it slant.

That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet

Unto my Books-so good to turn- Far ends of tired Days- It half endears the Abstinence- And Pain-is missed-in Praise- As Flavors-cheer Retarded Guests With Banquettings to be- So Spices-stimulate the time Till my small Library- It may be Wilderness-without- Far feet of failing Men- But Holiday-excludes the night- And it is Bells-within- I thank these Kinsmen of the Shelf- Their Countenances Kid Enamor-in Prospective- And satisfy-obtained-

There are depths in every Consciousness, from which we cannot rescue ourselves - to which none can go with us.

IX. The heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep; And then, if it should be The will of its Inquisitor, The liberty to die.

The days will have more hours while you are gone away.

When I sound the fairy call, gather here in silent meeting, Chin to knee on the orchard wall, cooled with dew and cherries eating. Merry, merry, take a cherry, mine are sounder, mine are rounder, Mine are sweeter for the eater, when the dews fall, and you'll be fairies all.

We do not play on Graves— Because there isn't Room— Besides—it isn't even—it slants And People come— And put a Flower on it— And hang their faces so— We're fearing that their Hearts will drop— And crush our pretty play— And so we move as far As Enemies—away— Just looking round to see how far It is—Occasionally—

Forever is composed of nows. Das 'Für immer' besteht aus vielen 'jetzt'.

In a serener Bright, In a more golden light I see Each little doubt and fear, Each little discord here Removed.

My only sketch, profile of heaven, is a large blue sky, and larger than the biggest I have seen in June--and in it are my friends--every one of them.

Our lives are Swiss, so still- so cool

Hunger is a way Of standing outside windows The entering takes away.

Who never lost, are unprepared

If you saw a bullet hit a Bird - and he told you he wasn't shot - you might weep at his courtesy, but you would certainly doubt his word - One drop more from the gash that stains your Daisy's bosom - then would you believe?

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the lune A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless grass, No eye could find the place; But God on his repealless list Can summon every face

The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet— He—waking—finds the flower there— Wherefore—Marauder—art thou here? Because, Sir, love is sweet! We are the flower—Thou the Sun! Forgive us, if as days decline— We nearer steal to thee! Enamored of the parting West— The peace—the flight—the Amethyst— Night's possibility!

Crumbling is not an instant's Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation's processes Are organized Decays. 'Tis first a Cobweb on the Soul A Cuticle of Dust A Borer in the Axis An Elemental Rust— Ruin is formal—Devil's work Consecutive and slow— Fail in an instant, no man did Slipping—is Crash's law.

While I was fearing it, it came,    But came with less of fear, Because that fearing it so long    Had almost made it dear.

Then, as horizons step, Or noons report away, Without the formula of sound, It passes, and we stay: A quality of loss Affecting our content.

You will forgive me, for I never visit. I am from the fields, you know, and while quite at home with the Dandelion, make but sorry figure in a Drawing -- room -- Did you ask me out with a bunch of Daisies, I should thank you, and accept --

To fight aloud is very brave, But gallanter, I know, Who charge within the bosom, The cavalry of woe.