Emily Dickinson

I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven Yet certain am I of the spot, As if a chart were given.

Who has not found the heaven below Will fail of it above. God's residence is next to min, His furniture is love.

Heaven is what I cannot reach

Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all.

Hope is the thing with feathers

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

My life closed twice before its close It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me

That it shall never come again is what makes life so sweet

Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed.

I dwell in Possibility.

The fog is rising.

I'm nobody, who are you

Success is counted sweetest by those who never succeed.

Saying nothing... sometimes says the most.

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

Dogs are better than human beings because they know but do not tell.

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

For Love is Immortality.

Drab Habitation of Whom Tabernacle or Tomb - or Dome of Worm - or Porch of Gnome - or some Elf's Catacomb

A wounded deer leaps the highest.

Forever is composed of nows.

Dwell in possibility.

Whenever a thing is done for the first time, it releases a little demon.

Experiment to me Is every one I meet If it contain a Kernel The Figure of a Nut Presents upon a Tree Equally plausibly, But Meat within, is requisite To Squirrels, and to Me

Time is a Test of Trouble But not a Remedy If such it prove, it prove too There was no Malady