Best Emily Dickinson Words
- I'll tell you how the Sun rose. Inspirational
- I had a terror-since September -I could tell to none-and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground-because I am afraid. Afraid
- Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes Eye
- The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-. Gather
- It is easy to work when the soul is at play. Easy
- My Faith is larger than the Hills— So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wheel To show the Sun the way—… Abroad
- A Letter is a Joy of Earth - It is denied the Gods Denied
- Forever — is composed of Nows— 'Tis not a different time... Let Months dissolve in further Months— And Years — exhale in Years... Composed
- To fight aloud, is very brave— But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Wo— Who win, and nations do not… Aloud
- I dwell in Possibility A fairer house than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior — for Doors. Doors
- One need not be a Chamber — to be Haunted— One need not be a House— The Brain — has Corridors — surpassing Material Place—… Abbey
- There's a certain Slant of light, Winter afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us— We can find no… Afternoon
- He deposes Doom Who hath suffered him. Adversity
- No ladder needs the bird but skies To situate its wings, Nor any leaders grim baton Arraigns it as it sings. Any
- Beauty crowds me till I die. Beauty, mercy have on me! Yet if I expire to-day Let it be in sight of thee! Beauty
- I do not know the man so bold He dare in lonely Place That awful stranger Consciousness Deliberately face-. Awful
- Safe Despair it is that raves- Agony is frugal. Puts itself severe away For its own perusal. Agony
- That short, potential stir That each can make but once, That bustle so illustrious Tis almost consequence, Is the eclat of death. Bustle
- The distance that the dead have gone Does not at first appear- Their coming back seems possible For many an ardent year. Appear
- We never know we go when we are going- We jest and shut the Door- Fate-following-behind us bolts it- And we accost no more-. Accost
- You'll find it-when you try to die- The Easier to let go- For recollecting such as went- You could not spare-you know. Death
- Take all away from me, but leave me Ecstasy, And I am richer then than all my Fellow Men-. All
- Superiority to Fate Is difficult to gain 'Tis not conferred of Any But possible to earn. Any
- The Spider as an Artist Has never been employed- Though his surpassing Merit Is freely certified. Artist
- Suspense-is Hostiler than Death-Death- tho soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increase- Suspense-does not conclude-. Broad
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