Quotes from Emily Dickinson

Il sempre è fatto di attimi.

The murmur of a bee

Until the daffodil Unties her yellow bonnet

Non è necessario essere una stanza o una casa per essere stregata. Il cervello ha corridoi che vanno oltre gli spazi materiali.

With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain

Oh Susie, I would nestle close to your warm heart, and never hear the wind blow, or the storm beat, again. Is there any room there for me, or shall I wander away all homeless and alone? Thank you for loving me, darling...

No weight nor mass nor beauty of execution can outweigh one grain or fragment of thought.

Part Three: Love V DOUBT me, my dim companion! Why, God would be content With but a fraction of the love Poured thee without a stint. The whole of me, forever, 5 What more the woman can,— Say quick, that I may dower thee With last delight I own! It cannot be my spirit, For that was thine before; 10 I ceded all of dust I knew,— What opulence the more Had I, a humble maiden, Whose farthest of degree Was that she might 15 Some distant heaven, Dwell timidly with thee!

Se remémorer Un Plaisir qui nous fut Retiré - Offre une Félicité comparable à un Meurtre - Omnipotente - Aiguë - Nous ne lâcherons pas le Poignard - Car Nous aimons la Blessure Que le Poignard Commémore - c'est Lui Qui Nous rappelle que Nous avons péri -

Dearer you cannot be, for I love you so already, that it almost breaks my heart - perhaps I can love you anew, every day of my life, every morning and evening - oh, if you will let me, how happy I shall be!

Her face is rounder than the moon

Each life converges to some centre expressed or still . . .

Twas my one glory - Let it be Remembered I was owned of Thee.

When the Best is gone - I know that other things are not of consequence - The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care.

Your sweetness intimidates.

A un cuore in pezzi Nessuno s'avvicini Senza l'alto privilegio Di avere sofferto altrettanto.

Saying nothing sometimes says the most.

To fight aloud, is very brave- But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Woe- Who win, and nations do not see- Who fall- and none observe- Whose dying eyes, no Country Regards with patriot love- We trust, in plumed procession For such, the Angels go- Rank after rank, with even feet- And Uniforms of snow.

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

And whose 'I'll meet you' hesitates If love inquire, 'Where?

Si la fama me perteneciera, no podría escapar de ella –y si no, no me alcanzaría el día más largo para cazarla –y la aprobación de mi Perro me abandonaría –entonces– Mi Rango de Descalza es mejor–

DAWN. When night is almost done, And sunrise grows so near That we can touch the spaces, It 's time to smooth the hair And get the dimples ready, And wonder we could care For that old faded midnight That frightened but an hour.

A word is dead when it said, some say... I say it just begins to live that day.

I mourn this morning, Susie, that I have no sweet sunset to gild a page for you, nor any bay so blue - not even a little chamber way up in the sky, as yours is, to give me thoughts of heaven, which I would give to you. You know how I must write you, down, down, in the terrestrial - no sunset here, no stars; not even a bit of twilight which I may poetize - and send you!