Emily Dickinson Quotes

Memory is a strange Bell — Jubilee, and Knell.

I must go in. The fog is rising.

"When you come home, darling, I shant have your letters, but I shall have yourself, which is more — oh more, and better, than I can even think! I sit here with my little whip, cracking the time away, 'till not an hour is left of it- then you are here! And joy is here — joy now and forevermore! Tis only a few days, Susie, it will soon go away, yet I say, "go now, this very moment, for I need her- I must have her, oh, give her to me!" Sometimes when I do feel so, I think it may be wrong, and that God will punish me by taking you away; for He is very kind to let me write to you, and to give me your sweet letters, but my heart wants more."

Split the Lark — and you'll find the Music, Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled.

Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires a sorest need. Not one of all the purple Host Who took the Flag today Can tell the definition So clear of Victory As he defeated — dying — On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Burst agonized and clear!

Success is counted sweetest by those ne'er succeed.

The whole of Immortality
Secreted by a star.

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

The distance that the dead have gone Does not at first appear; Their coming back seems possible For many an ardent year. And then, that we have followed them We more than half suspect, So intimate have we become With their dear retrospect.

كم بالغة سعادة الحجر
يتسكع وحده في الطرق بلا ضجر
فلا يهمه العمل
ولا بالمتطلبات يضيق الأمل
وثوبه البني ألبسه إياه
الدهر الذي من فوقه عبر
وهو كالشمس بكل حرية
يلمع وحده أو مع البقية
محققا وجوده
بكل بساطة وعفوية

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 -

The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset - when the King
Be witnessed - in the Room -

I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable - and then it was
There interposed a Fly -

With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -
Between the light - and me -
And then the Windows failed - and then
I could not see to see -

Who robbed the woods,
The trusting woods?
The unsuspecting trees
Brought out their burrs and mosses
His fantasy to please.
He scanned their trinkets, curious,
He grasped, he bore away.
What will the solemn hemlock,
What will the fir-tree say?

I dwell in Possibility —

I don't know which it is - I only know that when you shall come back again, the Earth will seem more beautiful, and bigger than it does now, and the blue sky from the window will be all dotted with gold - though it may not be evening, or time for the stars to come.

My friends are my "estate." Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them.