Emily Dickinson

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

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

Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.

Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.

The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
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The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.

And so upon this wise I prayed,--
Great Spirit, give to me
A heaven not so large read more

And so upon this wise I prayed,--
Great Spirit, give to me
A heaven not so large as yours
But large enough for me.

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.