Emily Dickinson
Revolutionary American poet of interiority
Most quoted
"The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune – Because I grow – where Robins do – But, were I Cuckoo born – I’d swear by him – The ode familiar – rules the Noon – The Buttercup’s, my Whim for Bloom – Because, we’re Orchard sprung – But, were I Britain born, I’d Daisies spurn – None but the Nut – October fit – Because, through dropping it, The Seasons flit – I’m taught – Without the Snow’s Tableau Winter, were lie – to me – Because I had not seen it go – But, this – makes not the Robin poor – Nor, of the Nut, deprive the Jay – Because the seasons flit away –"
— from Poem 347, 1862
"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. These are the only way I know it. Is there any other way?"
— from Letter to Thomas Wentworth Higginson
"I’m ceded – I’ve stopped being Theirs – The name They dropped upon my face With water, in the country church Is finished using, now, And They can put it with my Dolls, My childhood, and the string of spools, I’ve finished threading – too –"
— from Poem 508, 1862
All quotes by Emily Dickinson (267)
To be of use is to be of God.
The grave is a beautiful place, if it were not for the dead.
The only thing that can be compared to a book is a book.
The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
The Soul's distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity –
The only way to escape the world is to make a world of your own.
The only thing that can be compared to a flower is a flower.
The only thing that can be compared to a star is a star.
The only thing that can be compared to silence is silence.
The only thing that can be compared to eternity is eternity.
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops - at all
Success is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.
I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors –
The Soul selects her own Society – Then – shuts the Door – To her divine Majority – Present no more –
Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give my hood to them, But don’t forget the pin.
They shut me up in prose – As when a little girl They put me in the closet – Because they liked me 'still' –
Wild nights – Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury!
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!
Contemporaries of Emily Dickinson
Other Literatures born within 50 years of Emily Dickinson (1830–1886).