They address an Eclipse every morning, whom they call their "Father." — 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
The sun just touched the morning; The morning, happy thing, Supposed that he had come to dwell, And life would be all… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
Angels in the early morning may be seen the dews among. Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying. Do the buds to them belong? — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
I was almost persuaded to be a Christian. I thought I never again could be thoughtless and worldly. But I soon forgot… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
How do most people live without any thought? There are many people in the world,--you must have noticed them in the street,--how… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-. — 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
