It Seems Disingenuous To Ask A Writer

[emily] Dickinson, Our Supreme Poet Of Inwardness.

God's Blessing Is Not Always To Be Distinguished From His Wrath.

She Thought That This Man Was Her Savior, That He Had Come To Her At A Time In Her Life When Her Life Demanded Completion, An End, A Permanent Fixing Of All That Was Troubled And Shifting And Deadly. And Yet It Was Absurd To Think This. No Person Could Save Another. So She Drew Back From Him And Released Him.

The Denial Of Language Is A Suicidal One And We Pay For It With Our Own Lives.

And I’m Drawn To Failure. I Often Write About It, And I’m Sympathetic With It, I Think, Because I Feel I’m Contending With It Constantly In My Own Life.