Emily Dickinson

The only Ghost I ever saw Was dressed in Mechlin – and a Smile –

The Soul's distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or by extremity.

Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea – Past the Houses – Past the Headlands – Into deep Eternity –

The World – is not a 'Conclusion.' A Species stands beyond – Invisible, as Music – But positive, as Sound –

The Sea is a good Landlady – She has a pleasant way – Her Rooms are many – and her Rent Is often – but a Day –

The Frost of Death was on the Pane – 'Twas not the Frost of Snow –

A solemn thing – it was – I said – A Woman – white – to be – And wear – if God should count me fit – Her last – Eternity –

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago – And now a Silver Cycle strides As analyzed by me –

The Robin's my Criterion for Tune – Because I grow – where Robins do –

The Farthest Thunder that I heard Was that which broke the Cloud – And gave the Summer to the World – But kept the Light behind –

The only Barrier to Thought is Sleep.

To be a Flower is the most profound of all Ambitions.

I fear a Pioneer – Himself – The Vanishing Frontier – The Wilderness – in him – No less – than in the Land –

I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to Heaven.

I myself have a little cat, a German one, and though I have no right to it, I often steal a kiss of it.

I am glad you are not a poet. I mean, I am glad you are not a poet. It is a terrible thing to be a poet.

I taste a liquor never brewed — From Tankards scooped in Pearl — Not all the Vats upon the Rhine Yield such an Alcohol!

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 ways I know it. Is there any other way?

A Letter always feels to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.

To shut me in, I understood, would be to shut me out.