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687d3f5 She died--this was the way she died; And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side. death emily-dickinson rebirth Emily Dickinson
cc54f4e I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading - treading - till it seemed That Sense was breaking through - And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum - Kept beating - beating - till I thought My Mind was going numb - And then I heard them lift a Box And creak across my Soul With those same Boots of Lead, again, Then Space - began to toll, As all the Heavens were a Bell, And Being, but an Ear, And I, and Silence, some strange Race Wrecked, solitary, here - And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down - And hit a World, at every plunge, And Finished knowing - then - pain depression elegy emily-dickinson funeral Emily Dickinson
56bbd33 "Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lost sex shakespeare magic rain poems romance sacrifice death dreams music songs life carrack cityisle cityspire desolate fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters spectre amnesia androids haunting greek-mythology waking damnation count emily-dickinson magick tempest apocalypse reflections storms masquerade empty science-fiction gothic jazz ships ghosts water piano Nathan Reese Maher
ba391ca "Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labour, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then 'tis centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day emily-dickinson Emily Dickinson
a62cd8d open me carefully emily-dickinson letter Emily Dickinson
e17fd53 "There is a stillness between us, a period of restlessness that ties my stomach sex shakespeare magic rain poems romance sacrifice death dreams music songs life carrack cityisle cityspire desolate fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters spectre amnesia androids haunting greek-mythology waking damnation count emily-dickinson magick tempest apocalypse reflections storms masquerade empty science-fiction gothic jazz ships ghosts water piano Nathan Reese Maher
2cb476e "History doesn't start with a tall building sex shakespeare magic rain poems romance sacrifice death dreams music songs life carrack cityisle cityspire desolate fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters spectre amnesia androids haunting greek-mythology waking damnation count emily-dickinson magick tempest apocalypse reflections storms masquerade empty science-fiction gothic jazz ships ghosts water piano Nathan Reese Maher
28ac147 "she wanted to know what American writers I liked. "Hawthorne, Henry James, Emily Dickinson..." "No, living." Ah, well, hmm, let's see: how difficult, the rival factor being what it is, for a contemporary author, or would-be author, to confess admiration for another. At last I said, "Not Hemingway--a really dishonest man, the closet-everything. Not Thomas Wolfe--all that purple upchuck; of course, he isn't living. Faulkner, sometimes: Light in August. Fitzgerald, sometimes: Diamond as Big as the Ritz, Tender Is the Night. I really like Willa Cather. Have you read My Mortal Enemy?" With no particular expression, she said, "Actually, I wrote it." emily-dickinson henry-james light-in-august nathaniel-hawthorne tender-is-the-night thomas-wolfe william-faulkner willa-cather ernest-hemingway f-scott-fitzgerald Truman Capote
6e9cbf3 "She leaves my side and heads deeper into sex shakespeare magic rain poems romance sacrifice death dreams music songs life carrack cityisle cityspire desolate fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters spectre amnesia androids haunting greek-mythology waking damnation count emily-dickinson magick tempest apocalypse reflections storms masquerade empty science-fiction gothic jazz ships ghosts water piano Nathan Reese Maher
4c8d46b "That's a stupid name! Whirly-gig is much better, I think. Who in their right mind would point at this thing and say, 'I'm going to fly in my Model-A1'. sex shakespeare magic rain poems romance sacrifice death dreams music songs life carrack cityisle cityspire desolate fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters spectre amnesia androids haunting greek-mythology waking damnation count emily-dickinson magick tempest apocalypse reflections storms masquerade empty science-fiction gothic jazz ships ghosts water piano Nathan Reese Maher