American - Poet | December 10, 1830 - May 15, 1886
Dying is a wild night and a new road.
Emily Dickinson
NightRoadNewWildDying
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.
EyesHairSmallPortraitBoldGlass
After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.
GreatPainFeelingSitLikeFormal
God is not so wary as we, else He would give us no friends, lest we forget Him! The charms of the heaven in the bush are superseded, I fear, by the heaven in the hand, occasionally.
FearGodFriendsHeavenForgetHand
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 then. My barefoot rank is better.
DogDayMeBetterFameEscape
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.
LiveHeartRomanticI CanStopVain
Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate.
FoodFamousFameFicklePlate
Forever is composed of nows.
TimeForeverComposed
Beauty is not caused. It is.
BeautyCaused
Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.
TruthTruth IsTellRareDelightful
Whenever a thing is done for the first time, it releases a little demon.
TimeDoneFirst TimeFirstLittle
There is no Frigate like a book to take us lands away nor any coursers like a page of prancing Poetry.
PoetryBookPageTakeAwayUs
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