Emily Dickinson Quotes

With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,

she wrote verses in great abundance; and though brought curiously indifferent to all conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own tenacious fastidiousness.

I never spoke with God,

To that odd fork in Being’s road,
Eternity by term.

The Frogs sing sweet today -
they have such pretty, lazy times -
how nice to be a frog!

El sempre es compon de molts ares.

God gave a loaf to every bird,
But just a crumb to me;
I dare not eat it, though I starve, — My poignant luxury

We outgrow love like other things And put it in the drawer,

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?

They fling their speech By means of it in God’s ear;

A WORD is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

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.

The face we choose to miss, Be it but for a day— As absent as a hundred years When it has rode away.

The sweets of Pillage can be known To no one but the Thief, Compassion for Integrity Is his divinest Grief.

Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie, The Day that a companion came— Or was obliged to die.