Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.
EMILY DICKINSONPeople need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.
More Emily Dickinson Quotes
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Until you have loved, you cannot become yourself.
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It is easy to work when the soul is at play.
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Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun – if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.
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Friends are nations in themselves.
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Dogs are better than human beings because they know but do not tell.
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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.
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Open your life wide, and take me in forever. I will never be tired-I will never be noisy when you want to be still…nobody else will see me, but you-but that is enough-I shall not want any more.
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The past is not a package one can lay away.
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The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.
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To be alive-is Power.
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I am nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody, too?
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Sunrise: day’s great progenitor.
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Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
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We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.
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The things of which we want the proof are those we know the best.
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To ignore or use silence is a cruel tool. Hence this quote: Silence is all we dread; there’s ransom in a voice; but silence is infinity.
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I could not stop for death and he did not stop for me.
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People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.
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Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
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Beauty is not caused. It is.
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Does not Eternity appear dreadful to you. I often get to thinking of it and it seems so dark to me that I almost wish there was no Eternity. To think that we must forever live and never cease to be. It seems as if Death would be a relief to so endless a state of existence.
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The possible’s slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
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That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.
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I tasted life.
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Forever – is composed of Nows – ‘Tis not a different time. Let Months dissolve in further Months – And Years – exhale in Years.
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There’s a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.
EMILY DICKINSON