Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate. – Emily Dickinson
His Labor is a Chant — his Idleness — a Tune — oh, for a Bees experience of Clovers, and of Noon! – Emily Dickinson
Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate. – Emily Dickinson
His Labor is a Chant — his Idleness — a Tune — oh, for a Bees experience of Clovers, and of Noon! – Emily Dickinson
I am going to learn to make bread tomorrow. So if you may imagine me with my sleeves rolled up, mixing flour, milk, saleratus, etc., with a deal of grace. I advise you if you dont know how to make the staff of life to learn with dispatch. – Emily Dickinson