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Emily Dickinson Quotes

1830–1886 United States

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. Virtually unknown in her lifetime, Dickinson has come to be regarded as one of the greatest American poets of the 19th century.

United States
19th-century poets
Authors
Poets

Also known as: Dickinson, Emily

Random Emily Dickinson quote

66 quotes

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –
I keep it, staying at Home –
With a Bobolink for a Chorister –
And an Orchard, for a Dome –

The Soul selects her own Society –
Then – shuts the Door –
To her divine Majority –
Present no more –

And so upon this wise I prayed,—
Great Spirit, give to me
A heaven not so large as yours
But large enough for me.

A solemn thing - it was - I said -
A Woman - white - to be -
And wear - if God should count me fit -
Her blameless mystery -

It is solemn to remember that Vastness —
Is but the Shadow of the Brain which casts it —
All things swept sole away
This — is immensity —

a letter to Thomas Wentworth Higginson [L551 (1881)

The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.

I took one Draught of Life –
I'll tell you what I paid –
Precisely an existence –
The market price, they said.

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –

The sky is low, the clouds are mean

Truth – is as old as God –
His Twin identity
And will endure as long as He
A Co-Eternity –
And perish on the Day
Himself is borne away
From Mansion of the Universe
A lifeless Deity.

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.
I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.

Fame is a fickle food
Upon a shifting plate,
Whose table once a Guest, but not
The second time, is set.
Whose crumbs the crows inspect,
And with ironic caw
Flap past it to the Farmer’s corn;
Men eat of it and die.

New feet within my garden go,
New fingers stir the sod;
A troubadour upon the elm
Betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green,
New weary sleep below;
And still the pensive spring returns,
And still the punctual snow!

A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came,
A Wisdom, without Face, or Name,
A Peace, as Hemispheres at Home
And so the Night became.

I had no portrait, now, but am small, like the Wren, and my Hair is bold, like the Chestnut Bur — and my eyes, like the Sherry in the Glass, that the Guest leaves — Would this do just as well?

He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!

Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde —

What Soft – Cherubic Creatures –
These Gentlewomen are –
One would as soon assault a Plush –
Or violate a Star –
Such Dimity Convictions –
A Horror so refined
Of freckled Human Nature –
Of Deity – ashamed –

Mine enemy is growing old,—
I have at last revenge.
The palate of the hate departs;
If any would avenge,—
Let him be quick, the viand flits,
It is a faded meat.
Anger as soon as fed is dead;
'Tis starving makes it fat.

Bless God, he went as soldiers,
His musket on his breast;
Grant, God, he charge the bravest
Of all the martial blest.
Please God, might I behold him
In epauletted white,
I should not fear the foe then,
I should not fear the fight.

Attribution

Quotes and notes from Wikiquote: Emily Dickinson (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0.