TuesdayDec 03, 2024
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
This World is not Conclusion. A Sequel stands beyond Invisible, as Music But positive, as Sound.
Pain has an element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun or if there were A time when it was not....
That love is all there is is all we know of love.
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all.
She rose to his requirement, dropped The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with Daisies lie That Commerce will continue And Trades as briskly fly.
Anger as soon as fed is dead 'Tis starving makes it fat.
Angels in the early morning May be seen the dews among. Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying. Do the buds to them belong?
The Soul should always stand ajar.
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.
Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.
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.
Till it has loved, no man or woman can become itself.
I like a look of Agony, Because I know it's true Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe
I felt it shelter to speak to you.
Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved The Site of it by Architect Could not again be proved
Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
A Wounded deer leaps highest.
A word is dead, When it is said; Some say. I say It just began to live that day.
There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of Cathedral tunes.
'Tis so much joy! 'Tis 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!
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant Success in Circuit lies.
The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind.
Nods from the Gilded pointers Nods from the Seconds slim Decades of Arrogance between The Dial life And Him
Preface to Emily Dickinson's Poems. by Thomas W. Higginson (18231911) US clergyman, author When a thought takes one's breath away, a lesson in grammar seems an impertinence.
To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie True Poems flee
Inebriate of Air am I And Debauchee of Dew Reeling through endless summer days From inns of Molten Blue.
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.
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.
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend Or the most agonizing Spy An Enemy could send .
The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
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.
If I shouldn't be alive When the robins come, Give the one in red cravat A memorial crumb.
Remorse is Memory awake Her Parties all astir A Presence of Departed Acts At window and at Door
Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.
To fight aloud is very brave, But gallanter, I know, Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Woe.
Prayer is the little implement Through which men reach Where presence is denied them.
To make a prairie It takes clover and one bee One clover, and a bee, and reverie. The reverie alone will do, If bees are few.
The Possible's slow fuse is lit By the Imagination.
I dwell in Possibility A fairer House than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior for Doors .
No Life can pompless pass away The lowliest career To the same Pageant wends its way As that exalted here .
If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. Is there any other way?
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.
Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.
Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
Not to discover weakness is The Artifice of strength.
I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you Nobody Too? Then there's a pair of us? Don't tell! they'd advertise you know!
This is my letter to the World That never wrote to Me The simple News that Nature told With tender majesty.
Nature, like us is sometimes caught Without her diadem.
Nature is what we know Yet have not art to say So impotent our wisdom is To her simplicity.
His mind of man, a secret makes I meet him with a start He carries a circumference In which I have no part.
Ample make this Bed Make this Bed with Awe In it wait till Judgment break Excellent and Fair.
Much Madness is divinest Sense To a discerning Eye Much Sense the starkest Madness
Luck is not chance It's toil Fortune's expensive smile Is earned.
I argue thee that love is life And life hath immortality.
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.
I cannot live with You It would be Life And Life is over there Behind the Shelf.
This is the Hour of Lead Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow First Chill then Stupor then the letting go .
A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.
You can stay young as long as you learn.
God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me.
How odd that girl's life looks Behind this soft eclipse! I think that earth seems so To those in heaven now. This being comfort, then That other kind was pain; But why compare? I'm wife! stop there!
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within.
Hope it strange invention A Patent of the Heart In unremitting action Yet never wearing out.
The Pedigree of Honey Does not concern the Bee A Clover, any time, to him, Is Aristocracy
Where thou art, that is home.
Who has not found the heaven below Will fail of it above. Gods residence is next to mine His furniture is love.
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.
To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing Eyes I wonder if It weighs like Mine Or has an Easier size.
Called Back
I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in heaven; Yet certain am I of the spot As if the chart were given.
They say God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
My friends are my estate.
What fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot The opening of a Door.
Our little kinsmen after rain In plenty may be seen, A pink and pulpy multitude The tepid ground upon; A needless life it seemed to me Until a little bird As to a hospitality Advanced and breakfasted.
Till the first friend dies, we think our ecstasy impersonal, but then discover that he was the cup from which we drank it, itself as yet unknown.
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate.
Fame is a bee It has a song It has a sting Ah, too, it has a wing.
Faith is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not .
'Faith' is a fine invention When Gentleman can see But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency
Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.
Our journey had advanced; Our feet were almost come To that odd fork in Being's road, Eternity by term.
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
I took one Draught of Life I'll tell you what I paid Precisely an existence The market price, they said.
A Deed knocks first at Thought And then it knocks at Will That is the manufacturing spot.
The distance that the dead have gone Does not at first appear Their coming back seems possible For many an ardent year.
The dandelion's pallid tube Astonishes the grass, And winter instantly becomes An infinite alas.
Of Consciousness, her awful Mate The Soul cannot be rid As easy the secreting her Behind the Eyes of God.
How much can come And much can go, And yet abide the world!
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.
We must be careful what we say. No bird resumes its egg.
Unto a broken heart No other one may go Without the high prerogative Itself hath suffered too.
The brain is wider than the sky; For put them side by side The one the other will contain with ease And you beside.
There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry.
I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small Better an ignis fatuus Than no illume at all.
His Labor is a Chant His Idleness a Tune Oh, for a Bee's experience Of Clovers, and of Noon!
Beauty is not caused. It is.
Assentand you are sane, Demuryou're straightway dangerous, And handled with a Chain....
We turn not older with years, but newer every day.
After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.
Let us go in; the fog is rising.
Surgeons must be very careful, When they take the knife!, Underneath their fine incisions, Stirs the Culprit Life!
They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
Parting is all we know of heaven And all we need of Hell.
Because I could not stop for Death - He kindly stopped for me The Carriage held but just Ourselves - and Immortality.
That it will never come again Is what makes life so sweet.
How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog.
Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar requires sorest need.
Fame is a bee It has a song- It has a sting- Ah, too, it has a wing.
Faith is a fine invention For gentlemen who see; But Microscopes are prudent In an emergency.
Dying is a wild night and a new road.
Anger as soon as fed is dead 'Tis starving makes it fat.
Beauty is not caused, - it is; Chase it and it ceases, Chase it not and it abides...
Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality.
A little madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.
Anger as soon as fed is dead - 'Tis starving makes it fat.
Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day.
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