Until you have loved, you cannot become yourself. Emily Dickinson More Quotes by Emily Dickinson More Quotes From Emily Dickinson The only secret people keep is immortality. Emily Dickinson immortalitysecretpeople He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees. Prepares your brittle substance For the ethereal blow by fainter hammers, further heard, Then nearer, then so slow Your breath has time to straighten Your brain to bubble cool,- Deals one imperial thunderbolt That scalps your naked soul. Emily Dickinson keysplayerblow Expectation is contentment - Gain satiety. Emily Dickinson contentmentgainsexpectations Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play -- In accidental power -- The blonde Assassin passes on -- The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God. Emily Dickinson blondeflowerplay My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word Emily Dickinson acquaintancespokes She dealt her pretty words like Blades -- How glittering they shone -- And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone -- She never deemed -- she hurt -- That -- is not Steel's Affair -- A vulgar grimace in the Flesh -- How ill the Creatures bear -- To Ache is human -- not polite -- The Film upon the eye Mortality's old Custom -- Just locking up -- to Die. Emily Dickinson steeleyehurt Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. Emily Dickinson tonightlightheart Inebriate of air am I, And debauchee of dew, Reeling, through endless summer days, From inns of molten blue. Emily Dickinson airsummerblue Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one. Emily Dickinson fittingopinionsun Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, But which will bloom most constantly? The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring ,Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again, And who will call the wild-briar fair? Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath now, And deck thee with holly's sheen, That, when December blights thy brow, He still may leave thy garland green. Emily Dickinson summerspringsweet I lost a world the other day. Has anybody found? You'll know it by the rows of stars around it's forehead bound. A rich man might not notice it; yet to my frugal eye of more esteem than ducats. Oh! Find it, sir, for me! Emily Dickinson starseyemen I had been hungry all the years- My noon had come, to dine- I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. 'Twas this on tables I had seen When turning, hungry, lone, I looked in windows, for the wealth I could not hope to own. I did not know the ample bread, 'Twas so unlike the crumb The birds and I had often shared In Nature's diningroom. The plenty hurt me, 'twas so new,-- Myself felt ill and odd, As berry of a mountain bush Transplanted to the road. Nor was I hungry; so I found That hunger was a way Of persons outside windows, The entering takes away. Emily Dickinson winehurtyears 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 -- Emily Dickinson patentsshoesfeet Those who have not found the heaven below, will fail of it above. Emily Dickinson failingfoundheaven So proud she was to die It made us all ashamed That what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed. So satisfied to go Where none of us should be, Immediately, that anguish stooped Almost to jealousy. Emily Dickinson prouddesiredeath Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes Emily Dickinson revelationseyewaiting I had a terror-since September -I could tell to none-and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground-because I am afraid. Emily Dickinson septemberdoeboys Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat? Emily Dickinson heatsoulwhite A Deed knocks first at Thought And then - it knocks at Will - That is the manufacturing spot. Emily Dickinson spotsdeedsfirsts A Murmur in the Trees - to note - Not loud enough - for Wind - A Star - not far enough to seek - Nor near enough - to find Emily Dickinson starstreewind
