Emily Dickinson Quotes

"La "speranza" è la pennuta creatura
Che si posa nell'anima
E canta melodia senza parole
E non smette mai, proprio mai"

It was not death, for I stood up,
And all the dead lie down;
It was not night, for all the bells
Put out their tongues, for noon.

It was not frost, for on my flesh
I felt siroccos crawl,
Nor fire, for just my marble feet
Could keep a chancel cool.

And yet it tasted like them all;
The figures I have seen
Set orderly, for burial,
Reminded me of mine,

As if my life were shaven
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key;
And I was like midnight, some,

When everything that ticked has stopped,
And space stares, all around,
Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,
Repeal the beating ground.

But most like chaos, — stopless, cool,
Without a chance or spar, — Or even a report of land
To justify despair.

What are you reading now? I have little time to read when I am here, but while at home I had a feast in the reading line, I can assure you...Am not I a pendant for telling you what I have been reading? (May 16, 1848 to Abiah Root)

But it is growing damp and I must go in. Memory’s fog is rising.

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, eyes –
I wonder if It weighs like Mine –
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long –
Or did it just begin –
I could not tell the Date of Mine –
It feels so old a pain –

I wonder if it hurts to live –
And if They have to try –
And whether – could They choose between –
It would not be – to die –

I note that Some – gone patient long –
At length, renew their smile –
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil –

I wonder if when Years have piled –
Some Thousands – on the Harm –
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm.

I reason, earth is short, And anguish absolute. And many hurt; But what of that? I reason, we could die: The best vitality Cannot excel decay; But what of that? I reason that in heaven Somehow, it will be even, Some new equation given; But what of that?

My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun —
In Corners — till a Day
The Owner passed — identified —
And carried Me away — And now We roam in Sovereign Woods —
And now We hunt the Doe —
And every time I speak for Him —
The Mountains straight reply —

There is a pain so utter, it swallows being up;
The covers the abyss with a trance
So memory can step around, across, upon it.

She dwelleth in the Ground — Where Daffodils — abide — Her Maker — Her Metropolis — The Universe — Her Maid — To fetch Her Grace — and Hue — And Fairness — and Renown — The Firmament's — To Pluck Her — And fetch Her Thee — be mine —

Pain - has an Element of Blank
It cannot recollect
When it begun - or if there were
a time when it was not -
It has no Future - but itself -
Its Infinite contain
Its Past - enlightened to perceive
New Periods - of Pain.

Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.

Fate slew him, but he did not drop; She felled—he did not fall— Impaled him on her fiercest stakes— He neutralized them all. She stung him, sapped his firm advance, But, when her worst was done, And he, unmoved, regarded her, Acknowledged him a man.

There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away

This world is not conclusion.
A species stands beyond -
Invisible, as Music -
But positive as Sound

Tell all the truth but tell it slant- success in circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm delight
the truth's suberp surprise
As lightning to the children eased
with explanation kind
the truth must dazzle gradually
or every man be bilnd-