Emily Dickinson Quotes | Quotes by Emily Dickinson

I cannot live with you.
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They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
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Becuase I could not stop for Death He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality
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I dwell in possibility...
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My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away—
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Pain has an element of blank—
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.
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Retreat was out of hope,— Behind, a sealed route, Eternity's white flag before, And God at every gate.
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Because I could not stop for Death -- He kindly stopped for me -- The carriage held but just ourselvesAnd immortality.
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I dwell in possiblities.
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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
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Anger as soon as fed is dead. 'Tis starving makes it fat
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Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those we have personality and emotion know what it means to want to escape from these things.
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If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the words without the tune, and never stops at all.
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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.
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A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.
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Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate
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Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed
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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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Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed.
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Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul. And sings the tune Without the words, and never stops at all.
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Anger as soon as fed is dead- 'Tis starving makes it fat.
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Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul. And sings the tune Without the words, and never stops at all.
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Hope is a thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without words And never stops at all.
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