Emily Dickinson

We journey to the day,
And tell each other how we sang
To keep the dark away.

I'm a Nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? There's a pair of us- don't tell!

"Will there really be a "Morning"?
Is there such a thing as "Day"?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Men from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called "Morning" lies!"

To-morrow, night will come again,

Existence has overpowered Books. Today I slew a Mushroom.

SUMMER SHOWER. A drop fell on the apple tree, Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook, That went to help the sea. Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, What necklaces could be! The dust replaced in hoisted roads, The birds jocoser sung; The sunshine threw his hat away, The orchards spangles hung. The breezes brought dejected lutes, And bathed them in the glee; The East put out a single flag, And signed the fete away.

I heard a Fly buzz — when I died —
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air —
Between the Heaves of Storm —

Dich hab ich nicht erreicht-
Doch nähert Tag für Tag
Sich dir mein Fuß
Drei Flüsse noch und ein Berg
Ich überqueren muss.
Noch Eine Wüste, noch ein Meer,
Die Reise aber zähl ich nicht,
Wenn ich dann vor Dir steh.

Wir schreiten leicht, wie Schnee wir stehen,
die Wasser murmeln leis.
Flüsse, Wüsten, Berg und Meer
sind von uns durchlaufen.
Doch Tod entreißt mir meinen Preis,
Dich schauend, er gewinnt.

Impossibility, like wine
Exhilarates the man
Who tastes it; Possibility
Is flavoreless.

The soul unto itself
Is an imperial friend, — Or the most agonizing spy
An enemy could send.

Secure against its own,
No treason it can fear;
Itself its sovereign, of itself
The soul should stand in awe.

Luck is not chance, it's toil; fortune's expensive smile is earned.

One need not be a chamber to be haunted.

But the world is sleeping in ignorance and error, sir, and we must be crowing cocks, and singing larks, and a rising sun to awake her; or else we'll pull society up to the roots, and plant it in a different place. We'll build Alms-houses, and transcendental State prisons, and scaffolds — we will blow out the sun, and the moon, and encourage invention. Alpha shall kiss Omega — we will ride up the hill of glory — Hallelujah, all hail!

Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.

The Babies we were are buried, and their shadows are plodding on.