Emily Dickinson — "Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne'er succeed."
Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne'er succeed.
Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne'er succeed.
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"After great pain, a formal feeling comes – The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs – The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, And Yesterday, or Centuries before?"
"The only Monarch in the world is the King of the Air."
"The Sun went down – no Sweet Repose Permitted on the Road – To look at what the Day brought forth Or what the Night bestowed."
"Because I could not stop for Death—He kindly stopped for me."
"A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides – You may have met him – did you not His notice sudden is –"
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