Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea Past the houses, past the headlands Into deep eternity! Bred as we,… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
To possess is past the instant; we achieve the joy, immortality contented, were anomaly. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate, Whose table once a Guest, but not The second time, is set. Whose… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
Pain - has an Element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun - or if there were a time when it… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
The Past is such a curious Creature To look her in the Face A Transport may receipt us Or a Disgrace-. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
“Look back on Time, with kindly eyes - He doubtless did his best - How softly sinks that trembling sun In Human… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
The Things that never can come back, are several- Childhood-some forms of Hope-the Dead- Though Joys-like Men-may sometimes make a Journey- And… — 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
