Views: 231
Date created: April 2010
Birthdate December 10, 1830
Zodiac Sagittarius
Location Amherst, Massachusetts
Country United States of America
Etnhnicity
Job others,
Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
Todo lo que sabemos del amor es que el amor es todo lo que hay.
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie
Anger as soon as fed is dead- 'Tis starving makes it fat.
Tell all of the truth, but tell it slant...
I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you
Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.
we never know how high we are till we are called to rise then when we are true to plan our statures touch the skies the heroism that we recite would be a daily thing, did not ourselves the cubit's warp for fear to be a king/queen
My life closed twice before its close; It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me, So huge, so hopeless to conceive, As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
I dwell in possibility
The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?
Nature is a haunted house--but Art--is a house that tries to be haunted.
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops at all.
A word is dead when it's been said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day.
PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there's a word to lift your hat to...to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.
He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust.
Parting is all we know of Heaven, and all we need of Hell.
Art is a house that tries to be haunted.
Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast
She died--this was the way she died; And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
Celebrity is the chastisement of merit and the punishment of talent.
The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
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