His Labor is a Chant — his Idleness — a Tune — oh, for a Bees experience of Clovers, and of Noon! – Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality. – Emily Dickinson
Tis so much joy! Tis so much joy! If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so this side the victory! – Emily Dickinson
A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend. – Emily Dickinson