Emily Dickinson Quotes (543 Quotes)

Meanwhile -- Her wheeling King --
Trailed -- slow -- along the Orchards --
His haughty -- spangled Hems --
Leaving a new necessity!

The quiet nonchalance of death --
No Daybreak -- can bestir --
The slow -- Archangel's syllables
Must awaken her!

Pain is the Junior Party
By just a Second's right --
Death tenderly assists Him
And then absconds from Sight.

The healed Heart shows its shallow scar
With confidential moan --
Not mended by Mortality
Are Fabrics truly torn --
To go its convalescent way
So shameless is to see
More genuine were Perfidy
Than such Fidelity.

The smallest Housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the Lawn
And somebody has lost the face
That made Existence -- Home!

No Life can pompless pass away --
The lowliest career
To the same Pageant wends its way
As that exalted here --

Knows the Adder Tongue his coming
And presents her Spot --
Stands the Sun so close and mighty
That our Minds are hot.

If I must tell you, of a Horse
My freckled Monarch held the rein --
Doubtless an estimable Beast,
But not at all disposed to run!

Not if Their Party were waiting,
Not if to talk with Me
Were to Them now, Homesickness
After Eternity.

Dying is a wild night and a new road.

His Suit a chance
His Troth a Term
Protracted as the Breeze
Continual Ban propoundeth He
Continual Divorce.

To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.

The brain is wider than the sky For put them side by side The one the other will contain with ease And you beside.

'Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
That licked it from the Coast --
Nor ever guessed the stately sails
My little craft was lost!

Till the first friend dies, we think our ecstasy impersonal, but then discover that he was the cup from which we drank it, itself as yet unknown.

Could live -- did live --
Could die -- did die --
Could smile upon the whole
Through faith in one he met not,
To introduce his soul.

Forever is composed of nows.

Who asketh more,
Must seek the neighboring life!

When it has just contained a Life
Then, Darling, it will close
And yet so bolder every Day
So turbulent it grows

The satyr's fingers beckoned --
The valley murmured "Come" --
These were the mates --
This was the road
Those children fluttered home.

Thou settest Earthquake in the South --
And Maelstrom, in the Sea --
Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth --
Hast thou no Arm for Me?

Death is the supple Suitor That wins at last It is a stealthy Wooing Conducted first By pallid innuendoes And dim approach But brave at last with Bugles

A Bog -- affronts my shoe --
What else have Bogs -- to do --
The only Trade they know --
The splashing Men!

He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust.

The Habit of a Foreign Sky
We -- difficult -- acquire
As Children, who remain in Face
The more their Feet retire.

Our journey had advanced Our feet were almost come To that odd fork in Being's road, Eternity by term.

Except to Heaven, she is nought.

Tell Him -- just how she sealed you -- Cautious!

What difference in Substance lies
That what is Sum to me
By other Financiers be deemed
Exclusive Property!

Nature, like us is sometimes caught Without her diadem.

We'd never know how high we are, till we are called to rise and then, if we are true to plan, our statures touch the sky

At leisure is the Soul
That gets a Staggering Blow --
The Width of Life -- before it spreads
Without a thing to do --

Even for Death, a fairy medicine.

That Such have died enable Us
The tranquiller to die --
That Such have lived,
Certificate for Immortality.

He was weak, and I was strong -- then --
So He let me lead him in --
I was weak, and He was strong then --
So I let him lead me -- Home.

For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.

Nature's Experience would make
Our Reddest Second pale.

'Tis so much joy 'Tis so much joy If I should fail, what poverty And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw Have gained Yes Hesitated so this side the victory.

To die -- without the Dying
And live -- without the Life
This is the hardest Miracle
Propounded to Belief.

To die of thirst -- suspecting
That Brooks in Meadows run!

He lived the Life of Ambush
And went the way of Dusk
And now against his subtle name
There stands an Asterisk
As confident of him as we --
Impregnable we are --
The whole of Immortality intrenched
Within a star --

Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. Dissolve says DeathThe Spirit Sir I have another Trust Death doubts itArgues from the Ground The Spirit turns away Just laying off for evidence An Overcoat of Clay.

Proud of my night, since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility.