The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.
Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s pausing
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.
I’ve known her from an ample nation
Then close the valves of her attention
“I dwell in possibility…”~E.D.
“I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.”~E.D.
Much Madness Is Divinest Sense
Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
‘Tis the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur, – you’re straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.
…in her own handwriting…
via: Wild Nights! Wild Nights!
Home of Emily Dickinson, Amherst, Massachusetts via Red Ravine
Drawing by Leland Myrick via First Second Books