Emily Dickinson

A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake read more

A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake is still.
The smitten rock that gushes,
The trampled steel that springs,,
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings
Mirth is mail of anguish,
In which its cautious arm
Lest anybody spy the blood
And, you're hurt exclaim.

I confess that I love him, I rejoice that I love him, I thank the maker of Heaven and Earth read more

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.

Beauty is not caused. It is.

Beauty is not caused. It is.

Success is counted sweetest by those who never succeed.

Success is counted sweetest by those who never succeed.

Forever is composed of nows.

Forever is composed of nows.