Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
EMILY DICKINSONTo 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.
More Emily Dickinson Quotes
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Until you have loved, you cannot become yourself.
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The possible’s slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.
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I dwell in possibility.
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Beauty is not caused. It is.
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I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still. I can feel a sunshine stealing into my soul and making it all summer, and every thorn, a rose.
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Those who have not found the heaven below, will fail of it above.
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I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name.
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To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
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Friends are nations in themselves.
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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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If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.
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Good times are always mutual; that is what makes good times.
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Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.
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Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.
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I felt it shelter to speak to you.
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Forever is composed of nows.
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Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
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The past is not a package one can lay away.
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Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door.
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Till I loved I never lived.
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Opinion is a flitting thing But Truth outlasts the Sun.
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The only Commandment I ever obeyed – ‘Consider the Lilies.
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This is my letter to the world that never wrote to me.
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I’ll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, “That must have been the sun!
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The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.
EMILY DICKINSON