{"quotes":[{"text":"Why else do we write and write except to move our readers?","author":"Jerome Charyn","tags":["emily-dickinson","historical-fiction","novel"],"id":72829,"author_id":"Jerome+Charyn"},{"text":"They call each other `E.’ Elvis pickswildflowers near the river and bringsthem to Emily. She explains half-rhymes to him.In heaven Emily wears her hair long, sportsLevis and western blouses with rhinestones.Elvis is lean again, wears baggy trousersand T-shirts, a letterman’s jacket from Tupelo High.They take long walks and often hold hands.She prefers they remain just friends. Forever.Emily’s poems now contain naugahyde, Cadillacs,Electricity, jets, TV, Little Richard and RichardNixon. The rock-a-billy rhythm makes her smile.Elvis likes himself with style. This afternoonhe will play guitar and sing “I Taste A LiquorNever Brewed” to the tune of “Love Me Tender.”Emily will clap and harmonize. Alonein their cabins later, they’ll listen to the riverand nap. They will not think of Amherstor Las Vegas. They know why God made themroommates. It’s because Americawas their hometown. It’s becauseGod is a thing withoutfeathers. It’s becauseGod wears blue suede shoes.","author":"Hans Ostrom","tags":["and","elvis-presley","emily-dickinson","hans","heaven","in","ostrom"],"id":86693,"author_id":"Hans+Ostrom"},{"text":"There's nothing wicked in Shakespeare, and if there is I don't want to know it.","author":"Emily Dickinson","tags":["emily-dickinson","shakespeare"],"id":106976,"author_id":"Emily+Dickinson"},{"text":"Any conversation including the mention of Roald Dahl, Ray Bradbury, or Emily Dickinson is one worth getting into or at least eavesdropping.","author":"Don Roff","tags":["conversation","eavesdropping","emily-dickinson","gossip","humor","ray-bradbury","roald-dahl"],"id":201305,"author_id":"Don+Roff"},{"text":"Because I could not stop for Death,He kindly stopped for me;The carriage held but just ourselvesAnd Immortality.We slowly drove, he knew no haste,And I had put awayMy 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 seemedA swelling of the ground;The roof was scarcely visible,The cornice but a mound.Since then 'tis centuries; but eachFeels shorter than the dayI first surmised the horses' headsWere toward eternity.","author":"Emily Dickinson","tags":["death","emily-dickinson"],"id":203610,"author_id":"Emily+Dickinson"},{"text":"For Dickinson as part of a middle-class community anxious about female creativity, self-assertion, self-expression, and egoism, Shakespeare and Stratford may have been emblems appropriate to her own task as a writer: to achieve literary renown but also authorial disappearance.","author":"Paraic Finnerty","tags":["emily-dickinson","shakespeare"],"id":253705,"author_id":"Paraic+Finnerty"},{"text":"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,And Mourners to and froKept treading – treading – till it seemedThat Sense was breaking through – And when they all were seated,A Service, like a Drum – Kept beating – beating – till I thoughtMy Mind was going numb – And then I heard them lift a BoxAnd creak across my SoulWith those same Boots of Lead, again,Then Space – began to toll,As all the Heavens were a Bell,And Being, but an Ear,And I, and Silence, some strange RaceWrecked, solitary, here – And then a Plank in Reason, broke,And I dropped down, and down – And hit a World, at every plunge,And Finished knowing – then –.","author":"Emily Dickinson","tags":["brain","depression","elegy","emily-dickinson","funeral","pain"],"id":284580,"author_id":"Emily+Dickinson"},{"text":"Her breast is fit for pearls,But I was not a 'Diver' - Her brow is fit for thronesBut I have not a crest,Her heart is fit for home-I- a Sparrow- build thereSweet of twigs and twineMy perennial nest.","author":"Emily Dickinson","tags":["emily-dickinson","letters","love-poems","poems","poetry"],"id":313629,"author_id":"Emily+Dickinson"},{"text":"Emily Dickinson , in my opinion, is the perfect (although admittedly slightly cliche) poet for lonely fat girls.","author":"Suzanne Supplee","tags":["artichoke","emily-dickinson","fat-girls","lonely"],"id":323158,"author_id":"Suzanne+Supplee"},{"text":"Tell the truth, but tell it slant.","author":"Emily Dickinson","tags":["dickinson","emily","emily-dickinson","lie","poetry","slant","truth"],"id":383508,"author_id":"Emily+Dickinson"}],"pagination":{"page":1,"page_size":10,"total":12,"pages":2,"next":"?page=2\u0026page_size=10"}}