The distance that the dead have gone Does not at first appear- Their coming back seems possible For many an ardent year. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
Sweet Skepticism of the Heart That knows and does not know And tosses like a Fleet of Balm Affronted by the snow. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
When I state myself, as the representative of the verse, it does not mean me, but a supposed person. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
Suspense-is Hostiler than Death-Death- tho soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increase- Suspense-does not conclude-. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
I had a terror-since September -I could tell to none-and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground-because I… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
Does not Eternity appear dreadful to you. I often get to thinking of it and it seems so dark to me that… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
A Light exists in Spring Not present on the Year At any other period - When March is scarcely here A Color stands abroad… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
“Could you tell me how to grow--or is it unconveyed--like Melody--or Witchcraft?” — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
It might be lonelier Without the Loneliness - I’m so accustomed to my Fate - Perhaps the Other - Peace - Would interrupt the… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
“Inebriate of Air — am I — And Debauchee of Dew — Reeling — thro endless summer days — From Inns of Molten Blue —” — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
Luck is not chance, it's toil; fortune's expensive smile is earned. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small- Better an ignis fatuus Than no illume at all. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
“He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
I SEE thee better in the dark, I do not need a light. The love of thee a prism be Excelling violet. I see… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
