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)
The lovely flowers embarrass me, They make me regret that I am not a bee.
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant – Success in Circuit lies
I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you Nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us - don't tell! They'd banish us, you know.
To make a Prairie it takes a Clover and one Bee, And Revery. The Revery alone will do, If Bees are few.
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.
This is my letter to the World That never wrote to Me – The simple News that Nature told – With tender Majesty
A Wounded Deer – leaps highest – I've heard the Hunter tell – 'Tis but the Ecstasy of pain – And then – the brake is still –
That it will never come again Is what makes life so sweet.
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate
The Heart asks Pleasure – first – And then – Excuse from Pain – And then – those little Anodynes That deaden suffering –
To live is so astounding it leaves little room for anything else.
Dying is a wild Night and a new Road.
Presentiment – is that long Shadow – on the Lawn – Indicative that Suns go down –
The only Ghost I ever saw Was dressed in Mechlin lace
I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose –
The Soul's Superior instants Occur to Her – as if A Child escaped from Paradise Presented her – with Life –
Water, is taught by thirst.
The pedigree of the Horse is not of so much importance as his performance.
The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small – Better an ignis fatuus Than no illume at all –
The Grass so little has to do – A Sphere of simple Green – With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain –
Contemporaries of Emily Dickinson
Other Literatures born within 50 years of Emily Dickinson (1830–1886).