“This is my
letter to the World
That never
wrote to Me –
The simple
News that Nature told –
With tender
Majesty” (Dickinson, 1993, p.17).
“Those fair – fictitious People –
The Women .
plucked away
From our
familiar Lifetime –
The Men of
Ivory –
(…)
Esteeming
us – as Exile –
Themselves
– admitted Home –
Through
easy Miracle of Death –
The Way
ourself, must come -“ (Dickinson, 1993, p.36).
“Your
thoughts don’t have words every day.” (Dickinson, 1993, p.40).
“I dwell in
Possibility – “ (Dickinson, 1993, p.41).
“He found
my Being – set it up –
Adjusted it
to place –
Then carved
his name – upon it –
And bade it
to the East
Be faithful
– in his absence –
And he
would come again –
With
Equipage of Amber –
That time –
to take it Home –“ (Dickinson, 1993, p.44).
“I started
Early – Took my Dog –
And visited
the Sea –
The
Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to
look at me –
And
Frigates – in the Upper Floor
Extended
Hempen Hands –
Presuming
Me to be a Mouse –
Aground –
upon the Sands –
But no Man
moved Me – till the Tide
Went past
my simple Shoe –
And past my
Apron – and my Belt
And past my
Bodice – too –“ (Dickinson, 1993, p.45).
“To be
alive – is Power –
Existence –
in itself –
Without a
further function –
Omnipotence
– Enough –
To be alive
– and Will!
‘Tis able
as a God –
The Maker –
of Ourselves – be what –
Such being
Finitude!” (Dickinson, 1993, p.57).
“A little
Snow was here and there
Disseminated
in her Hair –
Since she
and I had met and played
Decade had
gathered to Decade –
But Time
had added not obtained. “ (Dickinson, 1993, p.77).
“Itself is
all the like it has –“ (Dickinson, 1993, p.170).
“Because I
could not stop for Death –
He kindly
stopped for me –“ (Dickinson, 1993, p.201).
“All but
Death, can be Adjusted –
Dynasties
repaired –
Systems –
settled in their Sockets –
Citadels –
dissolved –
Wastes of
Lives – resown with Colors
By
succeeding springs –
Death –
unto itself – Exception
Is exempt
from Change –“ (Dickinson, 1993, p.208).
“Some, too fragile
for winter winds
The
thoughtful grave encloses –
Tenderly
tucking them in frost
Before
their feet are cold.” (Dickinson, 1993, p.222).
“I made my
soul familiar – with her extremity –
That at the
last, it should not be a novel Agony –
But she,
and Death, acquainted –
Meet
tranquilly, as friends –
Salute, and
pass, without a Hint –
And there,
the Matter ends – “ (Dickinson, 1993, p.224).
“It is an
honorable Thought
And makes
One lift One’s Hat
As one met
sudden Gentlefolk
Upon a
daily Street
That We’ve
immortal Place
Though
Pyramids decay
And
Kingdoms, like the Orchard
Flit
Russetly away.” (Dickinson, 1993, p.234).
“If my Bark
sink
‘Tis to
another sea –
Mortality’s
Ground Floor
Is
Immortality –“ (Dickinson, 1993, p.235).
“This World
is not Conclusion.” (Dickinson, 1993, p.236).
“He scanned
it – staggered –
Dropped the
Loop
To Past or
Period –
Caught
helpless at a sense as if
His Mind
were going blind –
Groped up
to see if God was there –
Groped
backward at Himself
Caressed a
Trigger absently
And
wandered out of Life.” (Dickinson, 1993, p.237).
“Parting is
all we know of heaven,
And all we
need of hell.” (Dickinson, 1993, p.241).
“Forever –
is composed of Nows –
‘Tis not a
different time – “ (Dickinson, 1993, p.242).
“Exultation
is the going
Of an
inland soul to sea,
Past the
houses – past the headlands –
Into deep
Eternity –
Bred as we,
among the mountains,
Can the
sailor understand
The divine
intoxication
Of the
first league out from land?” (Dickinson, 1993, p.245).
“Behind Me –
dips Eternity –
Before Me –
Immortality –
Myself –
the Term between –
Death but
the Drift of Eastern Gray,
Dissolving
into Dawn away,
Before the
West begin –
(…)
‘Tis
Miracle before Me – then –
‘Tis
Miracle behind – between –
A Crescent
in the Sea – “ (Dickinson, 1993, p.247).
