Emily Dickinson Quotes

390 Sourced Quotes

Experiment to me Is every one I meet If it contain a Kernel? The Figure of a Nut Presents upon a Tree Equally plausibly, But Meat within, is requisite To Squirrels, and to Me.

Emily Dickinson
You cannot fold a flood and put it in a drawer, because the winds would find it out and tell your cedar floor.

Emily Dickinson
There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons—
That oppresses like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes—

Emily Dickinson
My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun —
In Corners — till a Day
The Owner passed — identified —
And carried Me away — And now We roam in Sovereign Woods —
And now We hunt the Doe —
And every time I speak for Him —
The Mountains straight reply —

Emily Dickinson
Love — thou art Veiled —
A few — behold thee —
Smile — and alter — and prattle — and die —
Bliss — were an Oddity — without thee —
Nicknamed by God —
Eternity —

Emily Dickinson
Dreams — are well — but Waking's better,
If One wake at Morn —
If One wake at Midnight — better —
Dreaming — of the Dawn —

Emily Dickinson
The pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee;
A clover, any time, to him
Is aristocracy.

Emily Dickinson
'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie —
That Commerce will continue —
And Trades as briskly fly —.

Emily Dickinson
The Possible's slow fuse is lit
By the Imagination.

Emily Dickinson
Will you tell me my fault, frankly as to yourself, for I had rather wince, than die. Men do not call the surgeon to commend the bone, but to set it, Sir.

Emily Dickinson
To fight aloud, is very brave —
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Cavalry of Woe—

Emily Dickinson
God is sitting here, looking into my very soul to see if I think right thoughts. Yet I am not afraid, for I try to be right and good; and He knows every one of my struggles.

Emily Dickinson
There is a word
Which bears a sword
Can pierce an armed man.
It hurls its barbed syllables,—
At once is mute again.
But where it fell
The saved will tell
On patriotic day,
Some epauletted brother
Gave his breath away. Wherever runs the breathless sun,
Wherever roams the day,
There is its noiseless onset,
There is its victory!
Behold the keenest marksman!
The most accomplished shot!
Time's sublimest target
Is a soul forgot!

Emily Dickinson
We turn not older with years, but newer every day.

Emily Dickinson
A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork Without a Revery— And so encountering a Fly This January Day Jamaicas of Remembrance stir That send me reeling in.

Emily Dickinson
Prayer is the little implement
Through which men reach
Where presence—is denied them.

Emily Dickinson
Fate slew him, but he did not drop;
She felled—he did not fall—
Impaled him on her fiercest stakes—
He neutralized them all. She stung him, sapped his firm advance,
But, when her worst was done,
And he, unmoved, regarded her,
Acknowledged him a man.

Emily Dickinson
I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious

Emily Dickinson
The blunder is to estimate,—
Eternity is Then,
We say, as of a station.
Meanwhile he is so near,
He joins me in my ramble,
Divides abode with me,
No friend have I that so persists
As this Eternity.

Emily Dickinson
I took my power in my hand
And went against the world;
'T was not so much as David had,
But I was twice as bold. I aimed my pebble, but myself
Was all the one that fell.
Was it Goliath was too large,
Or only I too small?

Emily Dickinson
I felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there —...

Emily Dickinson
'Twas my one Glory—
Let it be Remembered
I was owned of Thee—

Emily Dickinson
Good times are always mutual; that is what makes good times.

Emily Dickinson
By chivalries as tiny,
A blossom, or a book,
The seeds of smiles are planted—
Which blossom in the dark.

Emily Dickinson
Alter! When the Hills do —
Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One —
Surfeit! When the Daffodil Doth of the Dew—
Even as Herself—Sir —
I will—of You—

Emily Dickinson
A prompt — executive Bird is the Jay —
Bold as a Bailiff's Hymn —
Brittle and Brief in quality —
Warrant in every line —
Sitting a Bough like a Brigadier
Confident and straight —
Much is the mien of him in March
As a Magistrate —.

Emily Dickinson
The grass so little has to do,—
A sphere of simple green,
With only butterflies to brood,
And bees to entertain, And stir all day to pretty tunes
The breezes fetch along,
And hold the sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything; And thread the dews all night, like pearls,
And make itself so fine,-
A duchess were too common
For such a noticing. And even when it dies, to pass
In odors so divine,
As lowly spices gone to sleep,
Or amulets of pine. And then to dwell in sovereign barns,
And dream the days away,—
The grass so little has to do,
I wish I were a hay!

Emily Dickinson
How happy is the little stone
That rambles in the road alone,
And does n't care about careers,
And exigencies never fears;
Whose coat of elemental brown
A passing universe put on;
And independent as the sun,
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute decree
In casual simplicity.

Emily Dickinson
Ourself behind ourself concealed
Should startle most.

Emily Dickinson
I can wade Grief — Whole Pools of it — I'm used to that — But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet — And I tip — drunken — Let no Pebble — smile — 'Twas the New Liquor — That was all!

Emily Dickinson