Emily Dickinson Quotes

Quotes tagged as "emily-dickinson" (showing 1-30 of 56)
William Luce
“Oh phosphorescence. Now there’s a word to lift your hat to... To find that phosphorescence, that light within — is the genius behind poetry.”
William Luce, The Belle of Amherst

Emily Dickinson
“She died--this was the way she died;
And when her breath was done,
Took up her simple wardrobe
And started for the sun.
Her little figure at the gate
The angels must have spied,
Since I could never find her
Upon the mortal side.”
Emily Dickinson, Selected Poems

Emily Dickinson
“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My Mind was going numb –

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here –

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –”
Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson

Nathan Reese Maher
“All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city's monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.”
Nathan Reese Maher

Emily Dickinson
“Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.”
Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson
“open me carefully”
Emily Dickinson, Selected Letters

Woody Allen
“How wrong Emily Dickinson was! Hope is not "the thing with feathers." The thing with feathers has turned out to be my nephew. I must take him to a specialist in Zurich.”
Woody Allen, Without Feathers

Emily Dickinson
“Le monde est oval. On apprend l’eau par la soif, et la terre par le voyage en mer; la passion par les affres, et la paix par les récits de guerre; l’amour par la mort, et les oiseaux par l’hiver.”
Emily Dickinson

Suzanne Supplee
“Emily Dickinson , in my opinion, is the perfect (although admittedly slightly cliche) poet for lonely fat girls.”
Suzanne Supplee, Artichoke's Heart

Matt Haig
“The longer you live, the harder it becomes. To grab them. Each little moment as it arrives. To be living in something other than the past or the future. To be actually here.
Forever, Emily Dickinson said, is composed of nows. But how do you inhabit the now you are in? How do you stop the ghosts of all the other nows from getting in? How, in short, do you live?”
Matt Haig, How to Stop Time

Jerome Charyn
“Why else do we write and write except to move our readers?”
Jerome Charyn, The Secret Life of Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson
“I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still.”
Emily Dickinson, Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson

Thomas Wentworth Higginson
“After all, when a thought takes one's breath away, a lesson on grammar seems an impertinence.”
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Poems by Emily Dickinson Third Series

Emily Dickinson
“And somebody has lost the face
That made existence home!”
Emily Dickinson, Dickinson: Poems

Emily Dickinson
“Her breast is fit for pearls,
But I was not a "Diver" -
Her brow is fit for thrones
But I have not a crest,
Her heart is fit for home-
I- a Sparrow- build there
Sweet of twigs and twine
My perennial nest.”
Emily Dickinson, Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson

Billy Collins
Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes

First, her tippet made of tulle,
easily lifted off her shoulders and laid
on the back of a wooden chair.

And her bonnet,
the bow undone with a light forward pull.

Then the long white dress, a more
complicated matter with mother-of-pearl
buttons down the back,
so tiny and numerous that it takes forever
before my hands can part the fabric,
like a swimmer’s dividing water,
and slip inside.

You will want to know
that she was standing
by an open window in an upstairs bedroom,
motionless, a little wide-eyed,
looking out at the orchard below,
the white dress puddled at her feet
on the wide-board, hardwood floor.

The complexity of women’s undergarments
in nineteenth-century America
is not to be waved off,
and I proceeded like a polar explorer
through clips, clasps, and moorings,
catches, straps, and whalebone stays,
sailing toward the iceberg of her nakedness.

Later, I wrote in a notebook
it was like riding a swan into the night,
but, of course, I cannot tell you everything—
the way she closed her eyes to the orchard,
how her hair tumbled free of its pins,
how there were sudden dashes
whenever we spoke.

What I can tell you is
it was terribly quiet in Amherst
that Sabbath afternoon,
nothing but a carriage passing the house,
a fly buzzing in a windowpane.

So I could plainly hear her inhale
when I undid the very top
hook-and-eye fastener of her corset

and I could hear her sigh when finally it was unloosed,
the way some readers sigh when they realize
that Hope has feathers,
that Reason is a plank,
that Life is a loaded gun
that looks right at you with a yellow eye.”
Billy Collins, Picnic, Lightning

Emily Dickinson
“The days will have more hours while you are gone away.”
Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson
“Your absence insanes me so-- I do not feel so peaceful, when you are gone from me.”
Emily Dickinson, Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson

Emily Dickinson
“I miss you, mourn for you, and walk the streets alone- often at night, beside, I fall asleep in tears, for your dear face, yet not one word comes back to me. If it is finished, tell me, and I will raise the lid to my box of Phantoms, and lay one more love in; but if it lives and beats still, still lives and beats for me, then say so, and I will strike the strings to one more strain of happiness before I die.”
Emily Dickinson, Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson

Michael Finkel
“He marveled at the poetry of Emily Dickinson, sensing her kindred spirit. For the last seventeen years of her life, Dickinson rarely left her home in Massachusetts and spoke to visitors only through a partially closed door. "Saying nothing, " she wrote, "sometimes says the most.”
Michael Finkel, The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit

May Sarton
“I know that I myself have felt that prickling of the scalp that Emily Dickinson tells us is the sign of recognition before a true poem.”
May Sarton, Plant Dreaming Deep

Emily Dickinson
“Sweet hour, blessed hour, to carry me to you, and to bring you back to me, long enough to snatch one kiss, and whisper goodbye again.”
Emily Dickinson, Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson

Emily Dickinson
“Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music, Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled.”
Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson
“When you come home, darling, I shant have your letters, but I shall have yourself, which is more-- oh more, and better, than I can even think! I sit here with my little whip, cracking the time away, 'till not an hour is left of it- then you are here! And joy is here-- joy now and forevermore! Tis only a few days, Susie, it will soon go away, yet I say, "go now, this very moment, for I need her- I must have her, oh, give her to me!" Sometimes when I do feel so, I think it may be wrong, and that God will punish me by taking you away; for He is very kind to let me write to you, and to give me your sweet letters, but my heart wants more.”
Emily Dickinson, Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson

Emily Dickinson
“There's nothing wicked in Shakespeare, and if there is I don't want to know it.”
Emily Dickinson

“Bennett advises his daughter not to develop a passion for poetry because it is ‘dangerous to a woman’: like novels, poetry heightens a woman’s ‘natural sensibility to an extravagant degree’ and ‘inspires a ‘romantic turn of the mind,’ that is ‘utterly inconsistent with the solid duties and priorities of life.”
Paraic Finnerty, Emily Dickinson's Shakespeare

“For Dickinson as part of a middle-class community anxious about female creativity, self-assertion, self-expression, and egoism, Shakespeare and Stratford may have been emblems appropriate to her own task as a writer: to achieve literary renown but also authorial disappearance.”
Paraic Finnerty, Emily Dickinson's Shakespeare

“Tell the truth, but tell it slant...' is Emily Dickinson's advice....

I've been struck by how often slant is confused with bias - as though having a point of view, a set of assumptions, or a firmly held opinion is in itself unscrupulous or unfair. And as though neutrality is the mark of fairness or truth.”
Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies

Emily Dickinson
“The Soul selects her own Society — Then — shuts the Door — To her divine Majority — Present no more —”
Emily Dickinson

Jane Yolen
“I tell the truth,' she said. 'But I tell it slant.”
Jane Yolen, The Emerald Circus

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