A precious, bouldering pleasure 't into meet an antique booking just the dress his century wore;A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take, And warming in our own, A passage back, or two, to make To times when he was young. His quaint opinions to inspect, His knowledge to unfold On what concerns our mutual mind, The literature of old...

— Emily Dickinson

A precious, bouldering pleasure ’t is To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege, I think.

— Emily Dickinson

Art is a house that tries to be haunted.

— Emily Dickinson

A wounded dear leaps the highest

— Emily Dickinson

A wounded deer leaps the highest.

— Emily Dickinson

Beauty is not caused. It is.

— Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.

— Emily Dickinson

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

— 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 labor, 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 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 first surmised the horses' headwear toward eternity.

— Emily Dickinson

Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast—Grant God, he charges the bravest Of all the martial blessed!Please, God, might I behold Jimin epauletted white—I should not fear the foe then—I should not fear the fight!

— Emily Dickinson