Emily Dickinson Quotes
Emily Dickinson Quotes. Below is a collection of famous Emily Dickinson quotes. Here you can find the most popular and greatest quotes by Emily Dickinson. Share these quotations with your friends and family.
We talked between the Rooms— Until the Moss had reached our lips— And covered up—our names—
By Emily Dickinson
Though I than He—may longer live He longer must—than I— For I have but the power to kill, Without—the power to die—
By Emily Dickinson
The Sweeping up the Heart And putting Love away We shall not want to use again Until Eternity.
By Emily Dickinson
The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different
By Emily Dickinson
Remit as yet no grace, No furrow on the glow, Yet a druidic difference Enhances nature now.
By Emily Dickinson
Retreat was out of hope,— Behind, a sealed route, Eternity's white flag before, And God at every gate.
By Emily Dickinson
Safe in their Alabaster Chambers— Untouched by Morning And untouched by Noon— Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection—
By Emily Dickinson
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away—
By Emily Dickinson
Just girt me for the onset with Eternity, When breath blew back, And on the other side I heard recede the disappointed tide!
By Emily Dickinson
It has no future but itself— Its infinite contain Its past—enlightened to perceive New periods of pain.
By Emily Dickinson
I died for Beauty—but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining Room—
By Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for Death— He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Ourselves— And Immortality.
By Emily Dickinson
Apparently with no surprise To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play
By Emily Dickinson
After great pain, a formal feeling comes— The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs—
By Emily Dickinson
Of Consciousness, her awful Mate. The Soul cannot be rid -- as easy the secreting her behind the Eyes of God.
By Emily Dickinson
How the old mountains drip with sunset, And the brake of dun! How the hemlocks are tipped in tinsel By the wizard sun! How the old steeples hand the scarlet, Till the ball is full, -- Have I the lip of the flamingo That I dare to tell? Then, how the fire ebbs like billows, Touching all the grass With a departing, sapphire feature, As if a duchess pass! How a small dusk crawls on the village Till the houses blot; And the odd flambeaux no men carry Glimmer on the spot! Now it is night in nest and kennel, And where was the wood, Just a dome of abyss is nodding Into solitude! -- These are the visions baffled Guido; Titian never told; Domenichino dropped the pencil, Powerless to unfold.
By Emily Dickinson