Quotes by Emily Dickinson

If I can stop one Heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.

Fame is a fickle sun; it warms, then burns.

Grief is a house, where memories dwell in every room.

A Word is but a painted Seed – until it finds a fertile Mind – and blooms, a Thought, refined.

A single bloom can disprove winter's long claim.

A Wounded Deer – leaps highest.

The heart, a hummingbird, flits to the nearest sweetness, ignoring the thorn.

The mind is wider than the sky, hold it close.

To be alive is to be in constant transit, yet always arriving back at the self.

Hope is the feathery thing, but memory, a stone.

To dwell in possibility is fairer than a proven fact.

The riddle of the heart, its echoes in the soul.

Hope is a feathered thing, perched not on certainty, but on the possibility of flight.

The soul selects her own Society - then - shuts the Door - on infinitude.

The Soul selects her own Society - Then - shuts the Door.

The Dust behind our Caravan, obscures the shining Track.

Doubt is a shadow, lengthened by the setting sun of hope.

To dwell in Possibility, is grander far than Fact.

Success counts brightest to those who ne'er succeed.

The clock ticks, indifferent to our joys and woes.

The soul demands its own horizon, vast and unrestrained.

Not all wounds are visible, yet each leaves its mark.

Hope is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul -

A quiet mind, a treasure more precious than any gem.

To truly see, is to see beyond the veil of the known.

The soul demands a solitude, a space where echoes fade.

The smallest Seed - to grow - requires the largest Faith.

To know one's self, a voyage longer than any sea.

We never know how high we are, till we are asked to rise.

The Soul selects her own Society – Then – shuts the Door.

That Love is all there is, Is all we know of Love.

The Mind is wider than the Sky - For, put them side by side - The one the other will contain With ease - and You - beside -

Beauty crowds me till I die, but if I expire today I shall live again.

A Wounded Deer - leaps highest - I've heard the Hunter tell -

We never know how high we are till we are called to rise.

To comprehend a Woe – dissect it with a Pen – observe the Parts, reassemble – then – begin again.

A truth untold, a seed unsewn. Both slumber deep.

Hope is a feathered Thing – forever just beyond the Reach.

To be alive - is Power - Existence - in itself - a Victory.

To live is not to simply breathe, but to unravel the mysteries whispered on the wind.

The smallest Act of Kindness – like a Dewdrop on the Thorn – can hold the Light of Morning – and a promise of the Dawn.

The Soul selects its own Society – then – shuts the Door.

Let imagination be your garden, and words your blossoms.

That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.

To dwell on what is lost, is to lose what remains.