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Posts tagged "Emily Dickinson"

Emily Dickinson – Poem 341

After great pain, a formal feeling comes —
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs —
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round —
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought —
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone —

This is the Hour of Lead —
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow —
First — Chill — then Stupor — then the letting go —

Parents Just Don’t Understand, or The Perennial Advice Crisis Strikes Again

A mildly interesting article in last week’s Wall Street Journal entitled “Want My Advice? Um, Not Really?” which touches tangentially on one of our favorite topics: the danger of telling people what to do. Or in theological terms, the Law being powerless to produce what it commands, or worse, producing the opposite, all the way […]

Emily Dickinson – Poem 1212

A word is dead
When it is said,
     Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
     That day.

Emily Dickinson – Poem 1487

The Savior must have been
A docile Gentleman—
To come so far so cold a Day
For little Fellowmen—

The Road to Bethlehem
Since He and I were Boys
Was leveled, but for that ‘twould be
A rugged Billion Miles—

Emily Dickinson – Poem 816

A Death blow is a Life blow to Some
Who till they died, did not alive become–
Who had they lived, had died but when
They died, Vitality begun.

Emily Dickinson – Last Four Stanzas of Poem 561

The Grieved – are many – I am told –
There is the various Cause –
Death – is but one – and comes but once –
And only nails the eyes –

There’s Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –
A sort they call “Despair” –
There’s Banishment from native Eyes –
In Sight of Native Air –

And though I may not guess the kind –
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary –

To note the fashions – of the Cross –
And how they’re mostly worn –
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like My Own –

Emily Dickinson – Poem #1225

Its Hour with itself
The Spirit never shows.
What Terror would enthrall the Street
Could Countenance disclose

The Subterranean Freight
The Cellars of the Soul—
Thank God the loudest Place he made
Is license to be still.

Emily Dickinson – Poem 1355

The Mind lives on the Heart
Like any Parasite —
If that is full of Meat
The Mind is fat.

But if the Heart omit
Emaciate the Wit —
The Aliment of it
So absolute.

Emily Dickinson – Poem 1656

Down Time’s quaint stream
Without an oar
We are enforced to sail
Our Port a secret
Our Perchance a Gale
What Skipper would
Incur the Risk
What Buccaneer would ride
Without a surety from the Wind
Or schedule of the Tide —

The Etiquette of the Admonition is Questionable: Falling in Love with Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson is a tough sell for high school kids. I remember, junior year, counting the days until the “poetry section” of American Lit was over. Red wheelbarrows and blades of grass were all well and good, but I craved something linear, something I could wrap my adolescent mind around a bit more easily, maybe […]

Plank To Plank

I noticed recently that two of my favorite film directors, Woody Allen and Noah Baumbach, make reference in their films to the same joke, Q: “How do you make God laugh?” A: “Make A Plan”. Of course, since neither of them believes in God, I assume it’s their cute way of expressing how life rarely, […]


A great quote from the early edition of the reformer’s Systematic Theology, courtesy of Simeon Zahl:

“The Christian will acknowledge that nothing is less in his power than his heart.”