Letter 354 (early October 1870) Mrs. J. G. Holland Emily Dickinson
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I guess I wont send that note now, for the mind is such a new place, last night feels obsolete.
Perhaps you thought dear Sister, I wanted to elope with you and feared a vicious Father.
It was not quite that.
The Papers thought the Doctor was mostly in New York. Who then would read for you? Mr Chapman, doubtless, or Mr Buckingham! The Doctor's sweet reply makes me infamous.
Life is the finest secret.
So long as that remains, we must all whisper.
With that sublime exception I had not clandestineness.
It was lovely to see you and I hope it may happen again. These beloved accidents must become more frequent.
We are by September and yet my flowers are bold as June. Amherst has gone to Eden.
To shut our eyes is Travel.
The Seasons understand this.
How lonesome to be an Article! I mean - to have no soul.
An Apple fell in the night and a Wagon stopped.
Perhaps you thought dear Sister, I wanted to elope with you and feared a vicious Father.
It was not quite that.
The Papers thought the Doctor was mostly in New York. Who then would read for you? Mr Chapman, doubtless, or Mr Buckingham! The Doctor's sweet reply makes me infamous.
Life is the finest secret.
So long as that remains, we must all whisper.
With that sublime exception I had not clandestineness.
It was lovely to see you and I hope it may happen again. These beloved accidents must become more frequent.
We are by September and yet my flowers are bold as June. Amherst has gone to Eden.
To shut our eyes is Travel.
The Seasons understand this.
How lonesome to be an Article! I mean - to have no soul.
An Apple fell in the night and a Wagon stopped.
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