Emily Dickinson

"To live is so startling, it leaves but little room for other occupations."

"A Grave – is a restricted Breadth – Yet ampler than the Sun – And all the Seas He populates And lands he looks uponTo Him who on its small Repose Bestows a single Friend – Circumference without Relief – Or Estimate – or End –"

"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 labor and my leisure too, For His Civility –"

"I reason, earth is short, And anguish absolute. And many hurt; But what of that?I reason, we could die: The best vitality Cannot excel decay; But what of that?I reason that in heaven Somehow, it will be even, Some new equation given; But what of that?"

"Hope" is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all – And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard – And sore must be the storm – That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm – Ive heard it in the chillest land – And on the strangest Sea – Yet – never – in Extremity, It asked a crumb – of me."

"Nature is what we see, The Hill, the Afternoon— Squirrel, Eclipse, the Bumble-bee, Nay—Nature is Heaven.Nature is what we hear, The Bobolink, the Sea— Thunder, the Cricket— Nay,—Nature is Harmony.Nature is what we know But have no art to say, So impotent our wisdom is To Her simplicity."

"Not with a Club, the Heart is broken Nor with a Stone – A Whip so small you could not see it Ive knownTo lash the Magic Creature Till it fell, Yet that Whips Name Too noble then to tell.Magnanimous as Bird By Boy descried – Singing unto the Stone Of which it died –Shame need not crouch In such an Earth as Ours – Shame – stand erect – The Universe is yours."

"There is a solitude of space, A solitude of sea, A solitude of death, but these Society shall be, Compared with that profounder site, That polar privacy, A Soul admitted to Itself: Finite Infinity."

"There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man. It hurls its barbed syllables,— At once is mute again. But where it fell The saved will tell On patriotic day, Some epauletted brother Gave his breath away.Wherever runs the breathless sun, Wherever roams the day, There is its noiseless onset, There is its victory! Behold the keenest marksman! The most accomplished shot! Times sublimest target Is a soul "forgot"!"

"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"

"They shut me up in Prose - As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet - Because they liked me "still" -Still! Could themself have peeped - And seen my Brain - go round - They might as wise have lodged a Bird For Treason - in the Pound -"

"Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise. Three times, tis said, a sinking man Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever To that abhorred abodeWhere hope and he part company,— For he is grasped of God. The Maker’s cordial visage, However good to see, Is shunned, we must admit it, Like an adversity."