The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
What fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot- The opening of a Door. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
“I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors— Of Chambers as the Cedars— Impregnable of… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
We never know we go when we are going- We jest and shut the Door- Fate-following-behind us bolts it- And we accost… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
I dwell in Possibility A fairer house than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior — for Doors. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
THE soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling… — 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
