Emily Dickinson

Eden is that old-fashioned house we dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode until we drive away.

The mere sense of living is joy enough.

Anger as soon as fed is dead 'tis starving makes it fat.

Fame is a bee It has a song - It has a sting - Ah too it has a wing.

Finite to fail but infinite to venture.

Because I could not stop for Death He kindly stopped for me - The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality.

Dying is a wild night and a new road.

Anger as soon as fed is dead - Tis starving makes it fat.

He disposes Doom who hath suffered him.

A wounded deer leaps the highest.

I dwell in possibility_

If you were coming in the Fall, I'd brush the Summer by With half a smile and half a spurn, As Housewives do a Fly. If I could see you in a year, I'd wind the months in balls __nd put them each in separate Drawers, For fear the numbers fuse __f only Centuries, delayed, I'd count them on my Hand, Subtracting, till my fingers dropped Into Van Diemen's land. If certain, when this life was out, That yours and mine should be, I __ toss it yonder like a rind, And taste eternity. But, now, uncertain of the length Of this, that is between, It goads me, like the Goblin Bee, That will not state _ its sting.

Faith__s the Pierless BridgeSupporting what We seeUnto the Scene that We do not__oo slender for the eyeIt bears the Soul as boldAs it were rocked in SteelWith Arms of Steel at either side__t joins__ehind the VeilTo what, could We presumeThe Bridge would cease to beTo Our far, vacillating FeetA first Necessity.

The career of flowers differs from ours only in inaudibleness. I feel more reverence as I grow for these mute creatures whose suspense or transport may surpass my own.

Faith is a fine inventionWhen gentlemen can see,But microscopes are prudentIn an emergency.

Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.

Fame is a bee.It has a song -It has a sting -Ah, too, it has a wing.

I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come, Nor action new, Except through this extent, The realm of you.