I measure every grief I meet with narrow, probing eyes - I wonder if it weighs like mine - or has an… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,-- The sweeping up the heart, And… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
“When Jesus tells us about his Father, we distrust him. When he shows us his Home, we turn away, but when he… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
I can wade Grief -- Whole Pools of it -- I'm used to that -- But the least push of Joy Breaks… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
The sweets of pillage can be known To no one but the thief, Compassion for integrity Is his divinest grief. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
To lose what we have never owned might seem an eccentric bereavement, but Presumption has its own affliction as well as claim. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
“I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes; I wonder if It weighs like Mine, Or has an Easier size.… — 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
