Though now considered one of the greatest figures in American literature and one of the most important poets, only a few of Dickson’s poems were published during her lifetime and those were significantly edited and changed by publishers. Her first collection wasn’t printed until years after her death and a complete collection wasn’t published until 1955. A serious student of botany, she made and maintained a vast collection of plants; highly introverted, creative, unique, and challenging the assumptions of her time; she seldom left her house but wrote 40 volumes of almost 1800 poems.
“Inebriate of air – am I – and Debauchee of Dew.”
Chapters:
3. Weak Wishes, Strong Bones
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“How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog. To tell your name the livelong day, To an admiring bog!”
Chapters:
70. Inscrutable
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“How happy is the little stone
That rambles in the road alone,
And doesn't care about careers,
And exigencies never fears.”
Chapters:
72. Helpful Fear
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“I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody too? Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell! They’d banish us, you know.”
Chapters:
12. This Over That
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“If I can stop one heart from breaking, if I can ease one life the aching, I shall not live in vain.”
Chapters:
67. Three Treasures
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“Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane.”
Chapters:
18. The Sick Society
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“Saying nothing sometimes says the most.”
Chapters:
70. Inscrutable
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“That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.”
Chapters:
24. Unnecessary Baggage
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“to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.”
Chapters:
24. Unnecessary Baggage
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“To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.”
Chapters:
25. The Mother of All Things
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“We turn not older with years but newer every day.”
Chapters:
76. The Soft and Flexible
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“Time is a Test of Trouble
But not a Remedy
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no Malady.”
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“Fame is a bee
It has a song -
It has a sting -
Ah, too, it has a wing.”
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“Beauty—be not caused—It Is
Chase it, and it ceases
Chase it not, and it abides”
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“'Hope' is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul –
... Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.”
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“What about your beloved Epictetus? Or your beloved Emily Dickinson? You want your Emily, every time she has an urge to write a poem, to just sit down and say a prayer till her nasty, egotistical urge goes away? No, of course you don’t! But you’d like your friend Professor Tupper’s ego taken away from him.”
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“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 hierarch 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.”
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