To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.

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Explore More Quotes by Emily Dickinson

The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care.

The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care

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

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

Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.

Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me I know that is poetry.

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me I know that is poetry.

Related Quotes to Explore

    For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim’s time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort.

    For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim’s time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort.

    When you are missing someone, time seems to move slower, and when I’m falling in love with someone, time seems to be moving faster.

    When you are missing someone, time seems to move slower, and when I’m falling in love with someone, time seems to be moving faster.

    The greatest loss of time is delay and expectation, which depend upon the future. We let go the present, which we have in our power, and look forward to that which depends upon chance, and so relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty.

    The greatest loss of time is delay and expectation, which depend upon the future. We let go the present, which we have in our power, and look forward to that which depends upon chance, and so relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty.

    We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infintesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future.

    We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infinitesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future. 

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