Emily Dickinson Quotes
Most popular Emily Dickinson Quotes
I dwell in possibility.
My friends are my estate.
Fortune befriends the bold.
Beauty is not caused. It is.
Home is the definition of God.
Tell all the truth but tell it slant.
The mere sense of living is joy enough.
Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.
Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate.
The second half of joy Is shorter than the first.
That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.
The Possible's slow fuse is lit By the Imagination.
If you ever feel lost, let your heart be your compass.
Success is counted sweetest by those who never succeed.
A Wounded Deer—leaps highest— I've heard the hunter tell.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.
Anger as soon as fed is dead— 'Tis starving makes it fat.
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within.
A little madness in the spring is wholesome even for the king.
I could not prove that years had feet— Yet confident they run.
To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
Life is a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it.
My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them!
Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.
Luck is not chance — it's toil — fortune's expensive smile is earned.
One need not a house; The brain has corridors surpassing material place.
To live is so startling, it leaves but little room for other occupations.
The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
I shall not live in vain if I can ease one life the aching or cool one pain.
A word is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just Begins to live That day.
The power to console is not within corporeal reach—though its attempt is precious.
They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
I dwell in Possibility— A fairer house than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—.
Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need.
There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry.
Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit—Life!
The Brain—is wider than the Sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will contain With ease—and You—beside.
We never know how high we are till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies.
"Hope" is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops— at all.
This is the hour of lead— Remembered, if outlived, As freezing persons, recollect the Snow— First—chill—then stupor—then the letting go.
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.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever 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.
Tell all the Truth, but tell it slant.
That Love is all there is, Is all we know of Love.
Luck is not chance, it's toil; fortune's expensive smile is earned.
Luck is not chance— It's toil— Fortune's expensive smile Is earned.
Luck is not chance, it's toil. Fortune's expensive smile is earned.
The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome ecstatic experience.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul—and sings the tunes without the words—and never stops at all.
We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan Our statures touch the skies.