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I Was Almost Persuaded To Be A Christian. I Thought I Never Again Could Be Thoughtless And Worldly. But I Soon Forgot My Morning Prayer Or Else It Was Irksome To Me. One By One My Old Habits Returned And I Cared Less For Religion Than Ever.

-Emily Dickinson

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I Was Almost Persuaded

Emily Dickinson

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I Was Almost Persuaded To Be A Christian. I Thought I Never Again Could Be Thoughtless And Worldly. But I Soon Forgot My Morning Prayer Or Else It Was Irksome To Me. One By One My Old Habits Returned And I Cared Less For Religion Than Ever.

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The Service Without Hope Is Tenderest, I Think-- ... There Is No Diligence Like That That Knows Not An Until

We Never Know We Go When We Are Going- We Jest And Shut The Door- Fate-following-behind Us Bolts It- And We Accost No More-.

Love Is Its Own Rescue; For We, At Our Supremest, Are But Its Trembling Emblems.

Because I Could Not Stop For Death, He Kindly Stopped For Me; The Carriage Held But Just Ourselves And Immortality. We Slowly Drove, He Knew No Haste, And I Had Put Away My Labour, And My Leisure Too, For His Civility. We Passed The School Where Children Played, Their Lessons Scarcely Done; We Passed The Fields Of Gazing Grain, We Passed The Setting Sun. We Paused Before A House That Seemed A Swelling Of The Ground; The Roof Was Scarcely Visible, The Cornice But A Mound. Since Then 'tis Centuries; But Each Feels Shorter Than The Day I First Surmised The Horses' Heads Were Toward Eternity.

They Say That “time Assuages” - Time Never Did Assuage - An Actual Suffering Strengthens As Sinews Do, With Age - Time Is A Test Of Trouble - But Not A Remedy - If Such It Prove, It Prove Too There Was No Malady

Further In Summer Than The Birds Pathetic From The Grass A Minor Nation Celebrates Its Unobtrusive Mass. No Ordinance Be Seen So Gradual The Grace A Pensive Custom It Becomes Enlarging Loneliness. Antiquest Felt At Noon When August Burning Low Arise This Spectral Canticle Repose To Typify Remit As Yet No Grace No Furrow On The Glow Yet A Druidic Difference Enhances Nature Now.

Tell All The Truth But Tell It Slant-- Success In Circuit Lies Too Bright For Our Infirm Delight The Truth's Superb Surprise As Lightning To The Children Eased With Explanation Kind The Truth Must Dazzle Gradually Or Every Man Be Blind--

Congratulations

I Must Go In, The Fog Is Rising.

Some Arrows Slay But Whom They Strike - But This Slew All But Him - Who So Appareled His Escape - Too Trackless For A Tomb

Knew I How To Pray, To Intercede For Your [broken] Foot Were Intuitive - But I Am But A Pagan.

The Hearts That Never Lean Must Fall.

The Minister Today Preached About Death And Judgment, And What Would Become Of Those Who Behaved Improperly - And Somehow It Scared Me. He Preached Such An Awful Sermon I Didn't Think I Should Ever See You Again Until The Judgment Day. The Subject Of Perdition Seemed To Please Him Somehow.

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, Winter Afternoons— That Oppresses, Like The Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, It Gives Us— We Can Find No Scar, But Internal Difference, Where The Meanings, Are.... When It Comes, The Landscape Listens— Shadows—hold Their Breath— When It Goes, 'tis Like The Distance On The Look Of Death.

Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup.

Dreams Are The Subtle Dower That Make Us Rich An Hour Then Fling Us Poor Out Of The Purple Door.

The Distance That The Dead Have Gone Does Not At First Appear- Their Coming Back Seems Possible For Many An Ardent Year.

My Only Sketch, Profile, Of Heaven Is A Large Blue Sky, And Larger Than The Biggest I Have Seen In June - And In It Are My Friends - Every One Of Them.

That It Will Never Come Again Is What Makes Life Sweet.

Behavior Is What A Man Does, Not What He Thinks, Feels, Or Believes.

Speech Is One Symptom Of Affection; And Silence One; The Perfect Communication Is Heard Of None.

Publication - Is The Auction Of The Mind.

Had We Less To Say To Those We Love, Perhaps We Should Say It Oftener.

I Know Some Lonely Houses Off The Road A Robber'd Like The Look Of,-- Wooden Barred, And Windows Hanging Low

Beauty Crowds Me Till I Die. Beauty, Mercy Have On Me! Yet If I Expire To-day Let It Be In Sight Of Thee!

[a] Mother Is One To Whom You Hurry When You Are Troubled.

Mother Daughter

Love Can Do All But Raise The Dead.

Tell All The Truth, But Tell It Slant/success In Circuit Lies.

Congratulations

The Truth Dazzles Gradually, Or Else The World Would Be Blind.

A Deed Knocks First At Thought And Then - It Knocks At Will - That Is The Manufacturing Spot.

You Are Out Of The Way Of Temptation And Out Of The Way Of The Tempter - I Didn't Mean To Make You Wicked - But I Was - And Am - And Shall Be - And I Was With You So Much That I Couldn't Help Contaminate.

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.

No Life Can Pompless Pass Away - The Lowliest Career To The Same Pageant Wends Its Way As That Exalted Here -

The Bustle In A House The Morning After Death Is Solemnest Of Industries Enacted Upon Earth,-- The Sweeping Up The Heart, And Putting Love Away We Shall Not Want To Use Again Until Eternity

For Each Ecstatic Instant We Must An Anguish Pay In Keen And Quivering Ratio To The Ecstasy.

Death Is A Supple Suitor, That Wins At Last. It Is A Stealthy Wooing; Conducted First By Pallid Innuendos And Dim Approach, But Brave At Last With Bugles.

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, On Winter Afternoons, That Oppresses, Like The Weight Of Cathedral Tunes.

Pain Has An Element Of Blank

After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes. The Nerves Sit Ceremonious, Like Tombs.

Find Ecstasy In Life; The Mere Sense Of Living Is Joy Enough.

Our Little Kinsmen After Rain In Plenty May Be Seen, A Pink And Pulpy Multitude The Tepid Ground Upon; A Needless Life If Seemed To Me Until A Little Bird As To A Hospitality Advanced And Breakfasted.

Heavenly Father - Take To Thee The Supreme Iniquity Fashioned By Thy Candid Hand In A Moment Contraband - Though To Trust Us Seem To Us More Respectful - We Are Dust - We Apologize To Thee For Thine Own Duplicity.

It Is Easy To Work When The Soul Is At Play.

Why Should We Censure Othello When The Criterion Lover Says, "thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me"?

Morning Without You Is A Dwindled Dawn.

Assent - And You Are Sane - Demur - And You're Straightaway Dangerous - And Handled With A Chain.

When I State Myself, As The Representative Of The Verse, It Does Not Mean Me, But A Supposed Person.

Nature, Like Us Is Sometimes Caught Without Her Diadem.

A Clock Stopped-- Not The Mantel's-- Geneva's Farthest Skill Can't Put The Puppet Bowing-- That Just Now Dangled Still

You Left Me Boundaries Of Pain Capacious As The Sea, Between Eternity And Time, Your Consciousness And Me.

So Proud She Was To Die It Made Us All Ashamed That What We Cherished, So Unknown To Her Desire Seemed. So Satisfied To Go Where None Of Us Should Be, Immediately, That Anguish Stooped Almost To Jealousy.

If You Take Care Of The Small Things, The Big Things Take Care Of Themselves. You Can Gain More Control Over Your Life By Paying Closer Attention To The Little Things.

Twin Loaves Of Bread Have Just Been Born Into The World Under My Auspices. Fine Children, The Image Of Their Mother. And Here, My Dear Friend, Is The Glory.

... I Have No Letter From The Dead, Yet Daily Love Them More.

Nothing More Do I Ask Than To Share With You The Ecstasy And Sacrament Of My Life.

A Precious, Mouldering Pleasure 't Is, To Meet An Antique Book, In Just The Dress His Century Wore; A Privilege I Think.

A Word Is Dead When It Is Said, Some Say. I Say It Just Begins To Live That Day.

Faith-is The Pierless Bridge Supporting What We See Unto The Scene That We Do Not.

A Courteous, Yet Harrowing Grace, As Guest, That Would Be Gone

Such Is The Force Of Happiness-- The Least Can Lift A Ton Assisted By Its Stimulus.

I Would Like More Sisters, That The Taking Out Of One, Might Not Leave Such Stillness.

And Then--a Day As Huge As Yesterdays In Pairs, Unrolled Its Horror In My Face-- Until It Blocked My Eyes

You'll Find It-when You Try To Die- The Easier To Let Go- For Recollecting Such As Went- You Could Not Spare-you Know.

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.

I Am One Of The Lingering Bad Ones, And So Do I Slink Away, And Pause, And Ponder, And Ponder, And Pause, And Do Work Without Knowing Why - Not Surely For This Brief World, And More Sure It Is Not For Heaven - And I Ask What This Message Of Christ Means.

God's Little Blond Blessing We Have Long Deemed You, And Hope His So-called Will Will Not Compel Him To Revoke You.

She Died--this Was The Way She Died; And When Her Breath Was Done, Took Up Her Simple Wardrobe And Started For The Sun. Her Little Figure At The Gate The Angels Must Have Spied, Since I Could Never Find Her Upon The Mortal Side.

Till It Has Loved, No Man Or Woman Can Become Itself.

I Felt It Shelter To Speak To You.

To Die Before One Fears To Die May Be A Boon.

I Died For Beauty--but Was Scarce Adjusted In The Tomb When One Who Died For Truth, Was Lain In An Adjoining Room

Till I Loved I Never Lived.

There Is A Solitude Of Space. A Solitude Of Sea. A Solitude Of Death, But These Societies Shall Be Compared With That Profounder Site-that Polar Privacy. A Soul Admitted To Itself--finite Infinity.

Faith Slips - And Laughs, And Rallies

Love Is Like The Wild Rose-briar; Friendship Like The Holly-tree. The Holly Is Dark When The Rose-briar Blooms, But Which Will Bloom Most Constantly? The Wild Rose-briar Is Sweet In Spring ,its Summer Blossoms Scent The Air; Yet Wait Till Winter Comes Again, And Who Will Call The Wild-briar Fair? Then, Scorn The Silly Rose-wreath Now, And Deck Thee With Holly's Sheen, That, When December Blights Thy Brow, He Still May Leave Thy Garland Green.

Those Who Have Not Found The Heaven Below, Will Fail Of It Above.

The Soul Should Always Stand Ajar, Ready To Welcome The Ecstatic Experience.

Much Madness Is Divinest Sense -- To A Discerning Eye -- Much Sense -- The Starkest Madness -- 'tis The Majority In This, As All, Prevail -- Assent -- And You Are Sane -- Demur -- You're Straightway Dangerous -- And Handled With A Chain --

Success Is Counted Sweetest / By Those Who Ne'er Succeed.

I Do Not Know The Man So Bold He Dare In Lonely Place That Awful Stranger Consciousness Deliberately Face-.

This World Is Not Conclusion. A Sequel Stands Beyond- Invisible, As Music- But Positive, As Sound.

My Business Is Circumference.

A Wounded Deer Leaps Highest, I've Heard The Hunter Tell; 'tis But The Ecstasy Of Death, And Then The Brake Is Still. The Smitten Rock That Gushes, The Trampled Steel That Springs,, A Cheek Is Always Redder Just Where The Hectic Stings Mirth Is Mail Of Anguish, In Which Its Cautious Arm Lest Anybody Spy The Blood And, You're Hurt Exclaim.

Nods From The Gilded Pointers - Nods From The Seconds Slim - Decades Of Arrogance Between The Dial Life - And Him -

Truth - Is As Old As God-.

To Be Alive Is Power; Existence In Itself; Without A Further Function; Omnipotence.

A Narrow Fellow In The Grass Occasionally Rides

She Dealt Her Pretty Words Like Blades -- How Glittering They Shone -- And Every One Unbared A Nerve Or Wantoned With A Bone -- She Never Deemed -- She Hurt -- That -- Is Not Steel's Affair -- A Vulgar Grimace In The Flesh -- How Ill The Creatures Bear -- To Ache Is Human -- Not Polite -- The Film Upon The Eye Mortality's Old Custom -- Just Locking Up -- To Die.

Tis Not That Dieing Hurts Us So- Tis Living- Hurts Us More.

The Dandelion's Pallid Tube Astonishes The Grass, And Winter Instantly Becomes An Infinite Alas.

God's Unique Capacity Is Too Surprising To Surprise.

A Bayonet's Contrition Is Nothing To The Dead.

Two Seasons, It Is Said, Exist- The Summer Of The Just, And This Of Ours, Diversified With Prospect, And With Frost- May Not Our Second With Its First So Infinite Compare That We But Recollect The One The Other To Prefer?

Friends Are Nations In Themselves.

Inebriate Of Air Am I, And Debauchee Of Dew, Reeling, Through Endless Summer Days, From Inns Of Molten Blue.

I Do Not Like The Man Who Squanders Life For Fame; Give Me The Man Who Living Makes A Name.

That Short, Potential Stir That Each Can Make But Once, That Bustle So Illustrious Tis Almost Consequence, Is The Eclat Of Death.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul - And Sings The Tunes Without The Words - And Never Stops At All.

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.

Besides The Autumn Poets Sing, A Few Prosaic Days, A Little This Side Of The Snow, And That Side Of The Haze..., Grant Me, Oh Lord, A Sunny Mind- Thy Windy Will To Bear!

Just Girt Me For The Onset With Eternity, When Breath Blew Back, And On The Other Side I Heard Recede The Disappointed Tide!

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

If I Read A Book And It Makes My Whole Body So Cold No Fire Can Ever Warm Me, I Know That Is Poetry.

Ample Make This Bed. Make This Bed With Awe; In It Wait Till Judgment Break Excellent And Fair. Be Its Mattress Straight, Be Its Pillow Round; Let No Sunrise’ Yellow Noise Interrupt This Ground.

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

A Power Of Butterfly Must Be - The Aptitude To Fly Meadows Of Majesty Concedes And Easy Sweeps Of Sky -

Other Courtesies Have Been - Other Courtesy May Be - We Commend Ourselves To Thee Paragon Of Chivalry.

We Never Know How High We Are Till We Are Called To Rise. Then If We Are True To Form Our Statures Touch The Skies.

'tis Sweet To Know That Stocks Will Stand When We With Daisies Lie- That Commerce Will Continue- And Trades As Briskly Fly.

Where Thou Art, That Is Home.

The Brain Is Wider Than The Sky.

I Imagine Therefore I Belong And Am Free.

What Will The Solemn Hemlock- What Will The Oak Tree Say?

Saying Nothing... Sometimes Says The Most.

Spring's First Conviction Is A Wealth Beyond Its Whole Experience.

I Stepped From Plank To Plank So 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 Gait Some Call Experience.

Earth Is A Merry Damsel, And Heaven A Knight So True

Whenever A Thing Is Done For The First Time, It Releases A Little Demon.

I Died For Beauty But Was Scarce Adjusted In The Tomb, When One Who Died For Truth Was Lain In An Adjoining Room. He Questioned Softly Why I Failed? "for Beauty," I Replied. "and I For Truth, The Two Are One; We Brethren Are," He Said. And So, As Kinsmen Met A Night, We Talked Between The Rooms, Until The Moss Had Reached Our Lips, And Covered Up Our Names.

I Took One Draught Of Life - I'll Tell You What I Paid - Precisely An Existence - The Market Price, They Said.

This Is My Letter To The World, That Never Wrote To Me, The Simple News That Nature Told, With Tender Majesty. Her Message Is Committed, To Hands I Cannot See; For Love Of Her, Sweet Countrymen, Judge Tenderly Of Me.

If I Shouldn't Be Alive When The Robins Come, Give The One In Red Cravat, A Memorial Crumb.

Write Me Of Hope And Love, And Hearts That Endured.

You Remember My Ideal Cat Has Always A Huge Rat In Its Mouth, Just Going Out Of Sight - Though Going Out Of Sight In Itself Has A Peculiar Pleasure.

The Power To Console Is Not Within Corporeal Reach - Though Its Attempt Is Precious.

What Shall We Do My Darling, When Trial Grows More, And More, When The Dim, Lone Light Expires, And It's Dark, So Very Dark, And We Wander, And Know Not Where, And Cannot Get Out Of The Forest - Whose Is The Hand To Help Us, And To Lead, And Forever Guide Us? ... Where Do You Think I've Strayed And From What New Errand Returned. I Have Come From To And Fro, And Walking Up And Down The Same Place That Satan Hailed From When God Asked Where He'd Been.

As Summer Into Autumn Slips And Yet We Sooner Say "the Summer" Than "the Autumn," Lest We Turn The Sun Away, And Almost Count It An Affront The Presence To Concede Of One However Lovely, Not The One That We Have Loved - So We Evade The Charge Of Years On One Attempting Shy The Circumvention Of The Shaft Of Life's Declivity.

If I Read A Book And It Makes My Whole Body So Cold No Fire Can Warm Me, I Know That Is Poetry. If I Feel Physically As If The Top Of My Head Were Taken Off, I Know That Is Poetry. These Are The Only Ways I Know It. Is There Any Other Way?

Noon - Is The Hinge Of Day-.

I Had No Time To Hate, Because The Grave Would Hinder Me, And Life Was Not So Ample I Could Finish Enmity Nor Had I Time To Love: But Since Some Industry Must Be, The Little Toil Of Love, I Thought, Was Large Enough For Me.

The Soul Selects Her Own Society.

The Things That Never Can Come Back, Are Several - Childhood - Some Forms Of Hope - The Dead.

Eternity' Is There, 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.

What Soft--cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen Are-- One Would As Soon Assault A Plush-- Or Violate A Star

How Much Can Come And Much Can Go, And Yet Abide The World!

There Is Always One Thing To Be Grateful For - That One Is One's Self And Not Somebody Else.

Love Is Anterior To Life, Posterior To Death, Initial Of Creation, And The Exponent Of Breath.

The Brain Is Wider Than The Sky, For, Put Them Side By Side, The One The Other Will Include With Ease, And You Beside.

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking, I Shall Not Live In Vain.

My River Runs To Thee: Blue Sea, Wilt Welcome Me? My River Waits Reply. Oh Sea, Look Graciously! I ’ll Fetch Thee Brooks From Spotted Nooks,— Say, Sea, Take Me!

The Truth Never Flaunted A Sign.

Positive Atheism

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking…” Emily Dickinson If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking, I Shall Not Live In Vain; If I Can Ease One Life The Aching, Or Cool One Pain, Or Help One Fainting Robin Unto His Nest Again, I Shall Not Live In Vain.

The Sailor Cannot See The North / But Knows The Needle Can.

The Past Is Such A Curious Creature To Look Her In The Face A Transport May Receipt Us Or A Disgrace-.

I Am Going To Learn To Make Bread Tomorrow. So If You May Imagine Me With My Sleeves Rolled Up, Mixing Flour, Milk, Saleratus, Etc., With A Deal Of Grace. I Advise You If You Dont Know How To Make The Staff Of Life To Learn With Dispatch.

Spring Is The Period Express From God. Among The Other Seasons Himself Abide, But During March And April None Stir Abroad Without A Cordial Interview With God.

I Do Not Feel I Could Give Up All For Christ, Were I Called To Die.

Nature Is What We See - The Hill, The Afternoon, Squirrel, Eclipse, The Bumblebee. Nay, Nature Is Heaven. Nature Is What We Hear...

Heaven Is So Far Of The Mind That Were The Mind Dissolved - The Site Of It By Architect Could Not Again Be Proved.

We Dream — It Is Good We Are Dreaming — It Would Hurt Us — Were We Awake — But Since It Is Playing — Kill Us, And We Are Playing — Shriek — What Harm? Men Die — Externally — It Is A Truth — Of Blood — But We — Are Dying In Drama — And Drama — Is Never Dead — Cautious — We Jar Each Other — And Either — Open The Eyes — Lest The Phantasm — Prove The Mistake — And The Livid Surprise Cool Us To Shafts Of Granite — With Just An Age — And Name — And Perhaps A Phrase In Egyptian — It's Prudenter — To Dream —

How Frugal Is The Chariot That Bears A Human Soul.

The Brain - Is Wider Than The Sky - For - Put Them Side By Side - The One The Other Will Contain With Ease - And You - Beside - The Brain Is Deeper Than The Sea - For- Hold Them - Blue To Blue - The One The Other Will Absorb - As Sponges - Buckets - Do - The Brain Is Just The Weight Of God - For - Heft Them - Pound For Pound - And They Will Differ - If They Do - As Syllable From Sound.

Home Is The Definition Of God.

There Is No Silence In The Earth - So Silent As That Endured Which Uttered, Would Discourage Nature And Haunt The World.

I Am Out With Lanterns, Looking For Myself.

Banish Air From Air Divide Light If You Dare

I Could Not Stop For Death And He Did Not Stop For Me.

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.

I Dwell In Possibilities... A Fairer House Than Prose.

He Deposes Doom Who Hath Suffered Him.

I Would Paint A Portrait Which Would Bring The Tears, Had I Canvas For It, And The Scene Should Be -- Solitude, And The Figures -- Solitude -- And The Lights And Shades, Each A Solitude.

They Might Not Need Me; But They Might. I'll Let My Head Be Just In Sight; A Smile As Small As Mine Might Be Precisely Their Necessity.

People Need Hard Times And Oppression To Develop Psychic Muscles.

Sweet Skepticism Of The Heart That Knows And Does Not Know And Tosses Like A Fleet Of Balm Affronted By The Snow.

To Live Is So Startling It Leaves Little Time For Anything Else.

Wonder Is Not Precisely Knowing.

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, -

How Do Most People Live Without Any Thought? There Are Many People In The World,--you Must Have Noticed Them In The Street,--how Do They Live? How Do They Get Strength To Put On Their Clothes In The Morning?

Unable Are The Loved To Die, For Love Is Immortality.

I Tasted - Careless - Then - I Did Not Know The Wine Came Once A World - Did You? Oh, Had You Told Me So - This Thirst Would Blister - Easier - Now

It Is True That The Unknown Is The Largest Need Of The Intellect, Though For It, No One Thinks To Thank God.

Portraits Are To Daily Faces As An Evening West To A Fine, Pedantic Sunshine In A Satin Vest.

Forever Is Made Up Of Nows.

Beauty Is Not Caused. It Is.

I Know Nothing In The World That Has As Much Power As A Word. Sometimes I Write One, And I Look At It, Until It Begins To Shine.

One Need Not Be A Chamber To Be Haunted.

Drab Habitation Of Whom? Tabernacle Or Tomb - Or Dome Of Worm - Or Porch Of Gnome - Or Some Elf's Catacomb?

Pain - Has An Element Of Blank It Cannot Recollect When It Begun - Or If There Were A Time When It Was Not - It Has No Future - But Itself - Its Infinite Contain Its Past - Enlightened To Perceive New Periods - Of Pain.

What Fortitude The Soul Contains, That It Can So Endure The Accent Of A Coming Foot- The Opening Of A Door.

Love Is Like Life-merely Longer.

The Abdication Of Belief Makes The Behavior Small- Better An Ignis Fatuus Than No Illume At All.

Then, As Horizons Step, Or Noons Report Away,without The Formula Of Sound, It Passes, And We Stay:a Quality Of Loss Affecting Our Content.

The Appetite For Silence Is Seldom An Acquired Taste.

The Spreading Wide My Narrow Hands / To Gather Paradise-.

Sunrise: Day's Great Progenitor.

The Life We Have Is Very Great. The Life That We Shall See Surpasses It, We Know, Because It Is Infinity, But When All Space Has Been Beheld And All Dominion Shown The Smallest Human Heart's Extent Reduces It To None.

The Truth I Do Not Dare To Know I Muffle With A Jest.

Forever Is Composed Of Nows 'tis Not A Different Time Except For Infiniteness And Latitude Of Home

I Measure Every Grief I Meet With Narrow, Probing Eyes - I Wonder If It Weighs Like Mine - Or Has An Easier Size.

The World Allured Me & In An Unguarded Moment I Listened To Her Siren Voice. From That Moment I Seemed To Lose Interest In Heavenly Things. Friends Reasoned With Me & Told Me Of The Danger I Was In. I Felt My Danger & Was Alarmed, But I Had Rambled Too Far To Return & Ever Since My Heart Has Been Growing Harder.

Elysium Is As Far As To The Very Nearest Room, If In That Room A Friend Await Felicity Of Doom.

Those Who Lift Their Hats Shall See Nature As Devout Do God.

Positive Atheism

To Travel Far, There Is No Better Ship Than A Book.

Dare You See A Soul At The White Heat?

My Life Closed Twice Before Its Close

If I Feel Physically As If The Top Of My Head Were Taken Off, I Know That Is Poetry.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul.

Truth Is So Rare That It Is Delightful To Tell It.

Not To Discover Weakness Is The Artifice Of Strength.

Belshazzar Had A Letter,-- He Never Had But One; Belshazzar's Correspondence Concluded And Begun In That Immortal Copy The Conscience Of Us All Can Read Without Its Glasses On Revelation's Wall.

My Friends Are My Estate. Forgive Me Then The Avarice To Hoard Them. They Tell Me Those Who Were Poor Early Have Different Views Of Gold. I Don't Know How That Is. God Is Not So Wary As We, Else He Would Give Us No Friends, Lest We Forget Him.

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