His Labor is a Chant - His Idleness -a Tune - Oh, for a Bee's experience Of Clovers, and of Noon! — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
“To see her is a picture— To hear her is a tune— To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June— To… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes. — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
There's a certain Slant of light, Winter afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us— We… — 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
