The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination. Emily Dickinson More Quotes by Emily Dickinson More Quotes From Emily Dickinson I had no monarch in my life, and cannot rule myself; and when I try to organize, my little force explodes and leaves me bare and charred. Emily Dickinson force littles trying Not to discover weakness is The Artifice of strength. Emily Dickinson artifice weakness strength I cling to nowhere until I fall - the crash of Nothing. Emily Dickinson mental-illness depression fall Prayer is the little implement through which men reach; where presence is denied them. Emily Dickinson prayer littles men I would paint a portrait which would bring the tears, had I canvas for it, and the scene should be -- solitude, and the figures -- solitude -- and the lights and shades, each a solitude. Emily Dickinson solitude tears light Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies Emily Dickinson slips laughing The sun proceeds unmoved Emily Dickinson another-day sun time The hearts that never lean must fall. Emily Dickinson heart fall At least to pray is left - is left Oh Jesus - in the Air - I know not which thy chamber is - I'm knocking everywhere. Emily Dickinson atheism air jesus When we think of his lone effort to live and its bleak reward, the mind turns to the myth "for His mercy endureth forever," with confiding revulsion. Emily Dickinson effort forever thinking 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. Emily Dickinson wicked rocks garden They address an Eclipse every morning, whom they call their "Father." Emily Dickinson atheism morning father Lest I should be old-fashioned, Emily Dickinson berries autumn fall Sweet Skepticism of the Heart That knows and does not know And tosses like a Fleet of Balm Affronted by the snow. Emily Dickinson heart snow sweet Until you have loved, you cannot become yourself. Emily Dickinson My life closed twice before its close Emily Dickinson death Just girt me for the onset with Eternity, Emily Dickinson tides sides death Life is the finest secret. So long as that remains, we must all whisper. Emily Dickinson secret life-is long A color stands abroad on solitary hills that silence cannot overtake, but human nature feels. Emily Dickinson hills color silence Not if Their Party were waiting, Emily Dickinson party eternity waiting