Browsing Topic Best Emily Quotes

If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.

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

Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.

Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.

They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.

A wounded deer leaps the highest.

Anger as soon as fed is dead- ‘Tis starving makes it fat.

The Soul should always stand ajar.

Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.

Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

No, I don’t know any Emily Dickinson poems!

The puzzle and conundrums of Emily Dickinson’s poetry or The Cantos, by Ezra Pound, is infinitely pleasurable. Or Ronald Johnson’s Ark. And the experience extends a whole lifetime. But the intensity of certain vocalized language affects our bodies in a particular way, and that further actualization propels me. The Greeks explored this; there were very particular meters used in making war, different ones for a love chant.

I think more influential than Emily Dickinson or Coleridge or Wordsworth on my imagination were Warner Brothers, Merrie Melodies and Looney Tunes cartoons.

If you want to disappear, Emily, you can do it most anywhere.

Being Jewish, you didn’t get into a sorority. So I really was much more outgoing and gregarious. I really didn’t want to spend an Emily Dickinson adolescence reading poetry on gravestones, which I did.

Cynie Cory roams the outer reaches of the heart’s territory, from the snowy winter of family life to the tropical jungles of love. She wears her heart on her sleeve and it is as big as the country she writes about. Is she the quintessential American girl? You bet she is, part Annie Oakley, part Emily Dickinson—sharpshooting poet of wild nights. She zooms in on the detritus of love—the broken fragments, the fallen leaves—and puts together a collage that is as heartbreaking as it is beautiful. Watch out—she’s driving down your street.

You want to have enough of a profile to be able to do all the work you can, but at the same time you want to have your own space. But there are a lot of actors who achieve it, a lot of movie stars even, people like Emily Watson and Cate Blanchett. They seem to be able to carry on with their lives and still produce wonderful, high-profile work.

Sappho and Emily Dickinson are the only woman geniuses in poetic history.

Emily suffers no more from pain or weakness now. She will never suffer more in this world. She is gone after a hard, short conflict…Yes there is no Emily in time or on earth now. Yesterday we put her poor, wasted, mortal frame quietly under the chancel pavement. We are very calm at present. Why shoud we be otherwise? The anguish of seeing her suffer is over; the spectacle of the pains of death is gone by; the funeral day is past. We feel she is at peace. No need now to trouble for the hard frost and the keen wind. Emily does not feel them.

Even the best critical writing on Emily Dickinson underestimates her. She is frightening. To come to her directly from Dante, Spenser, Blake, and Baudelaire is to find her sadomasochism obvious and flagrant. Birds, bees, and amputated hands are the dizzy stuff of this poetry. Dickinson is like the homosexual cultist draping himself in black leather and chains to bring the idea of masculinity into aggressive visibility.

My sister Emily loved the moors. Flowers brighter than the rose bloomed in the blackest of the heath for her; out of a sullen hollow in a livid hillside her mind could make an Eden. She found in the bleak solitude many and dear delights; and not the least and best-loved was – liberty.

Emily Dickinson did not like was one of the stated purposes of the college – to convert young women to the Christian cause, finding Christ as their personal savior. She was one of the students who were declared without hope.

Around the edge of the crowd was a little 13-year-old bouncing up and down with a grin that went from ear to ear. She was so happy for her sister. It was a charming moment, and I think thats the essence of what Emily Hughes is.

When I was filming ‘The Haunting Hour’, my co-stars Emily Osment, Brittany Curran and I paid a visit to a haunted house – all dressed up as vampires! We really confused the workers.

Emily and I have now reached the time in life when not only do we lie about our ages, we forget what we’ve said they are.

Sappho is a great poet because she is a lesbian, which gives her erotic access to the Muse. Sappho and the homosexual-tending Emily Dickinson stand alone above women poets, because poetry’s mystical energies are ruled by a hierach requiring the sexual subordination of her petitioners. Women have achieved more as novelists than as poets because the social novel operates outside the ancient marriage of myth and eroticism.

Lively, intelligent, and quite immature, [Emily] usually burst out with exactly the comment that summed up the situation beautifully and therefore could never in politeness be said.

Emily Dickinson liked to shock people. She liked to break rules. There was a kind of rebellious freedom in her inner world.

For Emily Dickinson every philosophical idea was a potential lover. Metaphysics is the realm of eternal seduction of the spirit by ideas.

Emily was feeling the elation of conscientious hosts when they can temporarily escape a ubiquitous houseguest.

Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne’er succeed.

I argue thee that love is life. And life hath immortality.

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

After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.

Standing Here My entire world far beneath my feet, I should be filled with pride. Instead, I feel overwhelmed by a sense of defeat. Suddenly it comes to me, toes tempted to test the ledge, that there is a way out of this. Clam surety flows through my veins, and as I turn to wave good-bye, I wonder if it will hurt or if a single person will cry at my funeral. I take a deep breath, a final taste of sweet mountain air. I conjure Leona, Emily. Move my feet closer. Closer There’s Grandma One, Grandma Two, and their spouses, waiting for me. I see Dad. Cara. Mommy. I screw up my courage, step over