This is my heimat,
my deep map.
She went on talking constantly and saying, in the midst of narrative, things quaint and aphoristic. “Is it oblivion or absortion when things pass from our minds?” “Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it” …”how do most people live without any thoughts?” … Or this crowning extravaganza: “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 feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?”
-Thomas Wentworth Higginson recounting his meeting with Emily Dickinson, August 16, 1870