180 ordspråk av Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone.
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How much can come / And much can go, / And yet abide the world!
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How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
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I argue thee that love is life. And life hath immortality.
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I cannot live with You --/ It would be Life --/ And Life is over there --/ Behind the Shelf.
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I confess that I love him, I rejoice that I love him, I thank the maker of Heaven and Earth that gave him to me. The exultation floods me.
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I confess that I love him, I rejoice that I love him, I thank the maker of Heaven and Earth that gave him to me. The exultation floods me.
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I confess that I love him, I rejoice that I love him, I thank the maker of Heaven and Earth that gave him to me. The exultation floods me.
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I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name.
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I dwell in Possibility --/ A fairer House than Prose --/ More numerous of Windows --/ Superior --for Doors --.
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I felt it shelter to speak to you.
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I found the phrase to every thought I ever had, but one; And that defies me,-as a hand Did try to chalk the sun.
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I hope you love birds, too. It is economical. It saves going to Heaven.
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I like a look of Agony, because I know it's true - men do not sham Convulsion, nor simulate, a Throe -
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I measure every grief I meet with narrow, probing eyes - I wonder if it weighs like mine - or has an easier size.
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