23 Quotes by Emily Dickinson about dickinson
- Author Emily Dickinson
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Who never wanted, ― maddest joyRemains to him unknown ;The banquet of abstemiousnessSurpasses that of wine.Within its hope, though yet ungraspedDesire's perfect goal,No nearer, lest realityShould disenthrall thy soul.
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- Author Emily Dickinson
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Undue significance a starving man attaches to foodFar off ; he sighs, and therefore hopeless,And therefore good.Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves usThat spices flyIn the receipt. It was the distanceWas savory.
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- Author Emily Dickinson
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To hang our head ostensibly,And subsequent to findThat such was not the postureOf our immortal mind,Affords the sly presumptionThat, in so dense a fuzz,You, too, take cobweb attitudesUpon a plane of gauze !
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- Author Emily Dickinson
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I felt a clearing in my mindAs if my brain had split ;I tried to match it, seam by seam,But could not make them fit.The thought behind I strove to joinUnto the thought before,But sequence ravelled out of reachLike balls upon a floor.
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- Author Emily Dickinson
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To hear an Oriole singMay be a common thing —Or only a divine.It is not of the BirdWho sings the same, unheard,As unto Crowd —The Fashion of the EarAttireth that it hearIn Dun, or fair —So whether it be Rune,Or whether it be noneIs of within.The "Tune is in the Tree —"The Skeptic — showeth me —"No Sir! In Thee!
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- Author Emily Dickinson
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For each ecstatic instantWe must an anguish payIn keen and quivering ratioTo the ecstasy.For each beloved hourSharp pittances of years,Bitter contested farthingsAnd coffers heaped with tears.
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- Author Emily Dickinson
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I had no time to hate, becauseThe grave would hinder me,And life was not so ample ICould finish enmity.Nor had I time to love ; but sinceSome industry must be,The little toil of love, I thought,Was large enough for me.
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- Author Emily Dickinson
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We play at paste,Till qualified for pearl,Then drop the paste,And deem ourself a fool.The shapes, though, were similar,And our new handsLearned gem-tacticsPractising sands.
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- Author Emily Dickinson
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My worthiness is all my doubt,His merit all my fear,Contrasting which, my qualitiesDo lowlier appear ;Lest I should insufficient proveFor his beloved need,The chiefest apprehensionWithin my loving creed.So I, the undivine abodeOf his elect content,Conform my soul as 't were a churchUnto her sacrament.
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