Poet Emily Dickinson once wrote, "Truth is such a rare thing, it is delighted to tell it." Her poems and letters turn toward truth, hope, and the heart, illuminating the quiet inner places where the miracles of each day take shape.

How strange that nature does knock, and yet does not intrude! ~ Letter to Mrs. J. S. Cooper

That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.

We turn, not older with years, but newer every day.

The Possible’s slow fuse is lit by the imagination.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain.
If I can ease one life from aching,
or cool one pain,
or help one fainting robin
unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

Faith is the pierless bridge supporting what we see unto the scene that we do not.
~ Faith is the Pierless Bridge

A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.
~ Letters of Emily Dickinson

A presence of departed acts at window and at door.

A soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.

A wounded deer leaps the highest.

Beauty is not caused. It is.

Dying is a wild night and a new road.

Tell all the truth but tell it slant.

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

I cannot live with you, it would be Life,
and Life is over there, behind the shelf.
~ I Cannot Live With You

A bayonet’s contrition is nothing to the dead.

A little madness in the spring is wholesome even for the king.

A word is dead
when it is said,
some say.
I say it just
begins to live
that day.

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

Dwell in possibility.

Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.

Forever is composed of nows.

Glee! The great storm is over!

Much madness is divinest sense.