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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.

-Emily Dickinson

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Love Is Like The

Emily Dickinson

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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.

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

I Dwell In Possiblities.

Judge Tenderly Of Me.

The Lovely Flowers Embarrass Me. They Make Me Regret I Am Not A Bee.

I Don't Profess To Be Profound; But I Do Lay Claim To Common Sense.

Words Of Wisdom

Somewhere In My Soul A Thought Went Up In My Mind Today That I Have Had Before, But Did Not Finish, Some Way Back, I Could Not Fix The Year. Nor Where It Went, Nor Why It Came The Second Time To Me, Nor Definetly What It Was, Have I The Art To Say. But Somewhere In My Soul, I Know I've Met The Thing Before; It Just Reminded Me-' Twas All'-and Came My Way No More.

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.

I Like A Look Of Agony, Because I Know It's True - Men Do Not Sham Convulsion, Nor Simulate, A Throe

I Confess That I Love Him, I Rejoice That I Love Him, I Thank The Maker Of Heaven And Earth That Gave Him To Me. The Exultation Floods Me.

Much Madness Is Divinest Sense, To A Discerning Eye.

She Rose To His Requirement, Dropped The Playthings Of Her Life To Take The Honorable Work Of Woman And Of Wife.

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.

I Dwell In Possibility A Fairer House Than Prose More Numerous Of Windows Superior — For Doors.

We Trust In Plumed Procession For Such The Angels Go Rank After Rank, With Even Feet/and Uniforms Of Snow.

There Is A Zone Whose Even Years No Solstice Interrupt - Whose Sun Constructs Perpetual Noon Whose Perfect Seasons Wait - Whose Summer Set In Summer, Till The Centuries Of June And Centuries Of August Cease And Consciousness - Is Noon.

No Ladder Needs The Bird But Skies To Situate Its Wings, Nor Any Leaders Grim Baton Arraigns It As It Sings.

Forever Is Composed Of Nows.

I Lost A World The Other Day. Has Anybody Found? You'll Know It By The Rows Of Stars Around It's Forehead Bound. A Rich Man Might Not Notice It; Yet To My Frugal Eye Of More Esteem Than Ducats. Oh! Find It, Sir, For Me!

At Least To Pray Is Left - Is Left Oh Jesus - In The Air - I Know Not Which Thy Chamber Is - I'm Knocking Everywhere.

By Chivalries As Tiny, A Blossom, Or A Book, The Seeds Of Smiles Are Planted- Which Blossom In The Dark.

How Very Sad It Is To Have A Confiding Nature, One's Hopes And Feelings Are Quite At The Mercy Of All Who Come Along; And How Very Desirable To Be A Stolid Individual, Whose Hopes And Aspirations Are Safe In One's Waistcoat Pocket, And That A Pocket Indeed, And One Not To Be Picked!

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

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.

They Say That God Is Everywhere, And Yet We Always Think Of Him As Somewhat Of A Recluse.

In This Short Life That Only Lasts Ah Hour How Much-how Little-is Within Our Power.

In The Name Of The Bee And Of The Butterfly And Of The Breeze, Amen!

I Am Out With Lanterns, Looking For Myself.

I Had No Monarch In My Life, And Cannot Rule Myself; And When I Try To Organize, My Little Force Explodes And Leaves Me Bare And Charred.

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.

Not Knowing When The Dawn Will Come I Open Every Door.

A Letter Always Seemed To Me Like Immortality Because It Is The Mind Alone Without Corporeal Friend.

Here Is A Little Forest Whose Leaf Is Ever Green; Here Is A Brighter Garden, Where Not A Frost Has Been; In Its Unfading Flowers I Hear The Bright Bee Hum; Prithee, My Brother, Into My Garden Come!

Phosphorescence. Now There's A Word To Lift Your Hat To... To Find That Phosphorescence, That Light Within, That's The Genius Behind Poetry.

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

The Soul Selects Her Own Society.

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.

The Loneliness One Dare Not Sound -- And Would As Soon Surmise As In Its Grave Go Plumbing To Ascertain The Size -- The Loneliness Whose Worst Alarm Is Lest Itself Should See -- And Perish From Before Itself For Just A Scrutiny -- The Horror Not To Be Surveyed -- But Skirted In The Dark -- With Consciousness Suspended -- And Being Under Lock -- I Fear Me This -- Is Loneliness -- The Maker Of The Soul Its Caverns And Its Corridors Illuminate -- Or Seal

The Sun Just Touched The Morning; The Morning, Happy Thing, Supposed That He Had Come To Dwell, And Life Would Be All Spring.

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.

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.

Longing, It May Be, Is The Gift No Other Gift Supplies.

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

Within Thy Grave! Oh No, But On Some Other Flight - Thou Only Camest To Mankind To Rend It With Good Night

How Lucious Lies The Pea Within The Pod.

The Will Is Always Near, Dear, Though The Feet Vary.

Faith Slips - And Laughs, And Rallies

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

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?

Each That We Lose Takes A Part Of Us; A Crescent Still Abides, Which Like The Moon, Some Turbid Night, Is Summoned By The Tides.

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

Noon - Is The Hinge Of Day-.

A Great Hope Fell You Heard No Noise The Ruin Was Within.

I Work To Drive The Awe Away, Yet Awe Impels The Work.

The Spider As An Artist Has Never Been Employed- Though His Surpassing Merit Is Freely Certified.

I Must Go In, The Fog Is Rising.

Saying Nothing... Sometimes Says The Most.

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.

Nature Is What We Know - Yet Have Not Art To Say - So Impotent Our Wisdom Is To Her Simplicity.

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?

They Address An Eclipse Every Morning, Whom They Call Their "father."

This So Much Joy! This So Much Joy! If I Should Fail, What Poverty! And Yet, As Poor As I Have Ventured All Upon A Throw; Have Gained! Yes! Hesitated So This Side The Victory!

I Dwell In Possibility.

A Soft Sea Washed Around The House A Sea Of Summer Air And Rose And Fell The Magic Planks That Sailed Without A Care — For Captain Was The Butterfly For Helmsman Was The Bee And An Entire Universe For The Delighted Crew.

Of Consciousness, Her Awful Mate. The Soul Cannot Be Rid - As Easy The Secreting Her Behind The Eyes Of God.

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

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

I . . . Am Small, Like The Wren, And My Hair Is Bold Like The Chestnut Burr; And My Eyes Like The Sherry In The Glass That The Guest Leaves.

It Might Be Lonelier Without The Loneliness - I’m So Accustomed To My Fate - Perhaps The Other - Peace - Would Interrupt The Dark - And Crowd The Little Room - Too Scant - By Cubits - To Contain The Sacrament - Of Him - I Am Not Used To Hope - It Might Intrude Upon - Its Sweet Parade - Blaspheme The Place - Ordained To Suffering - It Might Be Easier To Fail - With Land In Sight - Than Gain - My Blue Peninsula - To Perish - Of Delight -

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

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

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.

I Hope You're Very Careful Working, Eating And Drinking When The Heat Is So Great--there Are Temptations There Which At Home You Are Free From--beware The Juicy Fruits, And The Cooling Ades, And Cordials, And Do Not Eat Ice-cream, It Is So Very Dangerous.

Time Is Short And Full, Like An Outgrown Frock - .

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

Vinnie Rocks Her Garden And Moans That God Won't Help Her. I Suppose He Is Too Busy Getting Angry With The Wicked Every Day.

You Ask Of My Companions. Hills, Sir, And The Sundown, And A Dog As Large As Myself.

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.

To Fight Aloud Is Very Brave, But Gallanter, I Know, Who Charge Within The Bosom, The Cavalry Of Woe.

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 Mountain At A Given Distance In Amber Lies; Approached, The Amber Flits A Little,-- And That's The Skies!

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.

How Strange That Nature Does Not Knock, And Yet Does Not Intrude!

His Cheek Is His Biographer- As Long As He Can Blush.

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.

It Was A Quiet Way - He Asked If I Was His - I Made No Answer Of The Tongue But Answer Of The Eyes - And Then He Bore Me On Before This Mortal Noise With Swiftness, As Of Chariots And Distance, As Of Wheels. This World Did Drop Away As Acres From The Feet Of One That Leaneth From Balloon Upon An Ether Street. The Gulf Behind Was Not, The Continents Were New - Eternity Was Due. No Seasons Were To Us - It Was Not Night Nor Morn - But Sunrise Stopped Upon The Place And Fastened In Dawn.

March Is The Month Of Expectation, The Things We Do Not Know, The Persons Of Prognostication Are Coming Now. We Try To Sham Becoming Firmness, But Pompous Joy Betrays Us, As His First Betrothal Betrays A Boy.

A Light Exists In Spring Not Present In The Year At Any Other Period When March Is Scarcely Here.

A Toad, Can Die Of Light - Death Is The Common Right Of Toads And Men

Portrait The World Spreads Out On Either Side No Farther Than The Heart Is Wide.

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.

The Only Commandment I Ever Obeyed — 'consider The Lilies.

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.

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

A Light Exists In Spring Not Present On The Year At Any Other Period - When March Is Scarcely Here A Color Stands Abroad On Solitary Fields That Science Cannot Overtake But Human Nature Feels. It Waits Upon The Lawn, It Shows The Furthest Tree Upon The Furthest Slope You Know It Almost Speaks To You. 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 As Trade Had Suddenly Encroached Upon A Sacrament.

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

I Imagine Therefore I Belong And Am Free.

The Pleading Of The Summer - That Other Prank - Of Snow - That Cushions Mystery With Tulle, For Fear The Squirrels - Know.

Victory Comes Late-- And Is Held Low To Freezing Lips-- Too Rapt With Frost To Take It

Opinion Is A Fitting Thing But Truth Outlasts The Sun - If Then We Cannot Own Them Both, Possess The Oldest One.

The Morning After Woe- Tis Frequently The Way- Surpasses All That Rose Before- For Utter Jubilee-.

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

If Fame Belonged To Me, I Could Not Escape Her; If She Did Not, The Longest Day Would Pass Me On The Chase, And The Approbation Of My Dog Would Forsake Me.

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.

The Sweets Of Pillage Can Be Known To No One But The Thief, Compassion For Integrity Is His Divinest Grief.

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

I Started Early, Took My Dog, And Visited The Sea; The Mermaids In The Basement Came Out To Look At Me

The Friend Anguish Reveals Is The Slowest Forgot.

My Life Closed Twice Before Its Close; It Yet Remains To See If Immortality Unveil A Third Event To Me, So Huge, So Hopeless To Conceive, As These That Twice Befell. Parting Is All We Know Of Heaven, And All We Need Of Hell.

The Brain Is Wider Than The Sky.

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.

I Think Heaven Will Not Be As Good As Earth, Unless It Bring With It That Sweet Power To Remember, Which Is The Staple Of Heaven Here.

Life Is A Spell So Exquisite That Everything Conspires To Break It.

Best Witchcraft Is Geometry To The Magician's Mind - His Ordinary Acts Are Feats To Thinking Of Mankind.

If Your Nerve, Deny You - Go Above Your Nerve

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.

This Is My Letter To The World That Never Wrote To Me

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

The Sun Proceeds Unmoved To Measure Off Another Day For An Approving God.

Wonder Is Not Precisely Knowing.

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

I Have A Bird In Spring Which For Myself Doth Sing - The Spring Decoys. And As The Summer Nears - And As The Rose Appears, Robin Is Gone. Yet Do I Not Repine Knowing That Bird Of Mine Though Flown - Learneth Beyond The Sea Melody New For Me And Will Return.

Beauty Is Just A Light Switch Away...'click!' Beauty Is Not Caused. It Is.

The Past Is Not A Package One Can Lay Away.

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

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.

Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I With Thee Wild Nights Should Be Our Luxury! Futile – The Winds – To A Heart In Port – Done With The Compass – Done With The Chart! Rowing In Eden – Ah, The Sea! Might I Moor – Tonight – In Thee!

Expectation Is Contentment - Gain Satiety.

God Is Indeed A Jealous God. He Cannot Bear To See, That We Had Rather Not With Him, But With Each Other Play.

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

He Deposes Doom Who Hath Suffered Him.

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

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 Had A Terror-since September -i Could Tell To None-and So I Sing, As The Boy Does By The Burying Ground-because I Am Afraid.

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

A Wounded Deer Leaps The Highest.

His Labor Is A Chant - His Idleness -a Tune - Oh, For A Bee's Experience Of Clovers, And Of Noon!

God, Keep Me From What They Call 'households,'

I'll Tell You How The Sun Rose.

To Be Alive──is Power.

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.

A Bayonet's Contrition Is Nothing To The Dead.

The Pedigree Of Honey Does Not Concern The Bee; A Clover, Any Time, To Him Is Aristocracy.

Because I Could Not Stop For Death, He Kindly Stopped For Me; The Carriage Held But Just Ourselves And Immortality.

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-.

A Little Madness In The Spring Is Wholesome Even For The King, But God Be With The Clown, Who Ponders This Tremendous Scene-- This Whole Experiment In Green, As If It Were His Own!

To See Her Is A Picture- To Hear Her Is A Tune- To Know Her An Intemperance As Innocent As June- To Know Her Not-affliction- To Own Her For A Friend A Warmth As Near As If The The Sun Were Shining In Your Hand.

Prayer Is The Little Implement Through Which Men Reach Where Presence - Is Denied Them. They Fling Their Speech By Means Of It - In God's Ear - If Then He Hear - This Sums The Apparatus Comprised In Prayer

To Lose Ones Faith-surpass The Loss Of An Estate- Because Estates Can Be Replenished- Faith Cannot-.

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

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

I Miss The Grasshoppers Much, But Suppose It Is All For The Best. I Should Become Too Much Attached To A Trotting World.

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

Apparently With No Surprise To Any Happy Flower The Frost Beheads It At Its Play -- In Accidental Power -- The Blonde Assassin Passes On -- The Sun Proceeds Unmoved To Measure Off Another Day For An Approving God.

The Last Of Summer Is Delight - Deterred By Retrospect. 'tis Ecstasy's Revealed Review - Enchantment's Syndicate. To Meet It - Nameless As It Is - Without Celestial Mail - Audacious As Without A Knock To Walk Within The Veil.

Initial Of Creation, And The Exponent Of Earth

Inspirational Life

How Frugal Is The Chariot That Bears A Human Soul.

These Are The Days When Birds Come Back, A Very Few, A Bird Or Two, To Take A Backward Look.

Beauty Is Not Caused. It Is.

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 --

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.

When He Tells Us About His Father, We Distrust Him. When He Shows Us His Home, We Turn Away, But When He Confides To Us That He Is Acquainted With Grief, We Listen, For That Also Is An Acquaintance Of Our Own.

Behold This Little Bane- The Boon Of All Alive- As Common As It Is Unknown The Name Of It Is Love.

I Never Saw A Meme; I Never Saw The Sea.

My Business Is Circumference.

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

The Truth Never Flaunted A Sign.

Positive Atheism

Memory Is A Strange Bell—jubilee, And Knell.

My Faith Is Larger Than The Hills— So When The Hills Decay— My Faith Must Take The Purple Wheel To Show The Sun The Way— 'tis First He Steps Upon The Vane— And Then — Upon The Hill— And Then Abroad The World He Go To Do His Golden Will— And If His Yellow Feet Should Miss— The Bird Would Not Arise— The Flowers Would Slumber On Their Stems— No Bells Have Paradise— How Dare I, Therefore, Stint A Faith On Which So Vast Depends— Lest Firmament Should Fail For Me— The Rivet In The Bands

The Only Secret People Keep Is Immortality.

Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup.

Nothing Is The Force That Renovates The World.

I Wonder If It Hurts To Live, And If They Have To Try, And Whether, Could They Choose Between, They Would Not Rather Die.

The Hearts That Never Lean Must Fall.

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

Just A Turn Of The Doorknob, And There Lies Freedom.

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.

Fame Is A Fickle Food Upon A Shifting Plate.

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.

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

Nature Is A Haunted House--but Art--is A House That Tries To Be Haunted.

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

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.

Grant Me, O Lord, A Sunny Mind-thy Windy Will To Bear!

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?

God's Unique Capacity Is Too Surprising To Surprise.

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.

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!

You Cannot Put A Fire Out! A Thing That Can Ignite Can Go Itself- Without A Flame- E'en Through The Darkest Night!

Suspense-is Hostiler Than Death-death- Tho Soever Broad, Is Just Death, And Cannot Increase- Suspense-does Not Conclude-.

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!

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

It Is Essential To The Sanity Of Mankind That Each One Should Think The Other Crazy - A Condition With Which The Cynicism Of Human Nature So Cordially Complies, One Could Wish It Were A Concurrence Upon A Subject More Noble.

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

Mother Daughter

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

Luck Is Not Chance, It's Toil; Fortune's Expensive Smile Is Earned.

But A Book Is Only The Heart's Portrait- Every Page A Pulse.

The Poet Lights The Light And Fades Away. But The Light Goes On And On.

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

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