Quotes From "The Complete Poems Of Emily Dickinson" By Emily Dickinson

A charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld, – The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled. But peers beyond her mesh, And wishes, and denies, – Lest interview annul a want That image satisfies. Emily Dickinson

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few. Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me. Emily Dickinson

I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there ’s a pair of us–don’t tell! They ’d banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog! Emily Dickinson

I stepped from Plank to PlankSo slow and cautiously The Stars about my Head I felt, About my Feet the Sea.I knew not but the next Would be my final inch –This gave me that precarious GaitSome call Experience. Emily Dickinson

I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: "'T will keep." I woke and chid my honest fingers, – The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own. Emily Dickinson

The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride, Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide, Earth a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true, And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue. Emily Dickinson

THE soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling her. Depart, before the host has slid The bolt upon the door, To seek for the accomplished guest, -- Her visitor no more. Emily Dickinson

Nature is a haunted house--but Art--is a house that tries to be haunted. Emily Dickinson

Water is taught by thirst; Land, by the oceans passed; Transport, by throe; Peace, by its battles told; Love, by memorial mould; Birds, by the snow. Emily Dickinson

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading — treading — till it seemed That Sense was breaking through — And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum — Kept beating — beating — till I thought My Mind was going numb — And then I heard them lift a BoxAnd creak across my SoulWith those same Boots of Lead, again, Then Space — began to toll, As all the Heavens were a Bell, And Being, but an Ear, And I, and Silence, some strange RaceWrecked, solitary, here — And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down — And hit a World, at every plunge, And Finished knowing — then — . Emily Dickinson

Not with a club, the Heart is broken Nor with a Stone —A Whip so small you could not see it I've known Emily Dickinson

I felt a Cleaving in my Mind–As if my Brain had split– I tried to match it– Seam by Seam–But could not make it fit. The thought behind, I strove to join Unto the thought before– But Sequence ravelled out of SoundLike Balls–upon a Floor. Emily Dickinson

Heart, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim; Haste! lest while you’re lagging, I may remember him! Emily Dickinson

I HIDE myself within my flower That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too– And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower, That, fading from your vase, You, unsuspecting, feel for me Almost a loneliness... Emily Dickinson

One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place. Far safer, of a midnight meeting External ghost, Than an interior confronting That whiter host. Far safer through an Abbey gallop, The stones achase, Than, moonless, one's own self encounter In lonesome place. Ourself, behind ourself concealed, Should startle most; Assassin, hid in our apartment, Be horror's least. The prudent carries a revolver, He bolts the door, O'erlooking a superior spectre More near. Emily Dickinson

I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, eyes —I wonder if It weighs like Mine —Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long —Or did it just begin —I could not tell the Date of Mine —It feels so old a pain —I wonder if it hurts to live —And if They have to try —And whether — could They choose between —It would not be — to die —I note that Some — gone patient long —At length, renew their smile —An imitation of a LightThat has so little Oil —I wonder if when Years have piled —Some Thousands — on the Harm —That hurt them early — such a lapse Could give them any Balm. Emily Dickinson

I sing to use the waiting, My bonnet but to tie, And shut the door unto my house; No more to do have I, Till, his best step approaching, We journey to the day, And tell each other how we sang To keep the dark away. Emily Dickinson

THE MOON was but a chin of gold A night or two ago, And now she turns her perfect face Upon the world below. Her forehead is of amplest blond; Her cheek like beryl stone; Her eye unto the summer dew The likest I have known. Her lips of amber never part; But what must be the smile Upon her friend she could bestow Were such her silver will! And what a privilege to be But the remotest star! For certainly her way might pass Beside your twinkling door. Her bonnet is the firmament, The universe her shoe, The stars the trinkets at her belt, Her dimities of blue. Emily Dickinson

Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell. Emily Dickinson

Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door. Emily Dickinson

To be alive──is Power. Emily Dickinson

If you were coming in the Fall, I'd brush the Summer by With half a smile and half a spurn, As Housewives do a Fly. If I could see you in a year, I'd wind the months in balls –And put them each in separate Drawers, For fear the numbers fuse –If only Centuries, delayed, I'd count them on my Hand, Subtracting, till my fingers dropped Into Van Diemen's land. If certain, when this life was out, That yours and mine should be, I ’d toss it yonder like a rind, And taste eternity. But, now, uncertain of the length Of this, that is between, It goads me, like the Goblin Bee, That will not state – its sting. . Emily Dickinson

Tell all the truth but tell it slant. Emily Dickinson