Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (born 10 December 1830, Amherst, Massachusetts, United States – died 15 May 1886, Amherst, Massachusetts, United States) was an American poet. Unrecognized in her own time, Dickinson is now known posthumously for her innovative use of form and syntax. She wrote hundreds of poems and letters exploring themes of death, faith, emotions, and truth.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?
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.
How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog!
How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.
There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away, Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry – This Traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of Toll – How frugal is the Chariot That bears a Human soul.