A Quote by Emily Dickinson
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 I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.
Quote Topics
Away
Because
Before
Carriage
Centuries
Children
Civility
Could
Day
Death
Done
Drove
Each
Eternity
Feels
Fields
First
Gazing
Grain
Ground
Had
Haste
Heads
Held
His
Horses
House
Immortality
Just
Kindly
Knew
Labour
Leisure
Lessons
Me
Mound
Ourselves
Passed
Played
Put
Roof
Scarcely
School
Seemed
Setting
Setting Sun
Since
Slowly
Stop
Stopped
Sun
Swelling
Than
Then
Tis
Too
Toward
Visible
Were
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Related Quotes
Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.
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One day the President and Mrs. Coolidge were visiting a government farm. Soon after their arrival they were taken off on separate tours. When Mrs. Coolidge passed the chicken pens she paused to ask the man in charge if the rooster copulates more than once each day. "Dozens of times, was the reply." "Please tell that to the President," Mrs. Coolidge requested. When the President passed the pens and was told about the roosters, he asked "Same hen every time?" "Oh no, Mr. President, a different one each time." The President nodded slowly, then said, "Tell that to Mrs. Coolidge."
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The summer ends and we wonder who we are And there you go, my friends, with your boxes in your car And today I passed the high school, the river, the maple tree I passed the farms that made it Through the last days of the century And I knew that I was going to learn again Again, in this less hazy light I saw the fields beyond the fields The fields beyond the field
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Each leaf that brushed his face deepened his sadness and dread. Each leaf he passed he'd never pass again. They rode over his face like veils, already some yellow, their veins like slender bones where the sun shone through them. He had resolved himself to ride on for he could not turn back and the world that day was as lovely as any day that ever was and he was riding to his death.
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