“This self now as I leant over the gate looking down over fields rolling in waves of colour beneath me made no answer. He threw up no opposition. He attempted no phrase. His fist did not form. I waited. I listened. Nothing came, nothing. I cried then with a sudden conviction of complete desertion. Now there is nothing. No fin breaks the waste of this immeasurable sea. Life has destroyed me. No echo comes when I speak, no varied words. This is more truly death than the death of friends, than the death of youth.”
― The Waves
― The Waves
“Oh Susie, I often think that I will try to tell you how very dear you are, and how I'm watching for you, but the words won't come, though the tears will, and I sit down disappointed. Yet, darling, you know it all-- then why do I seek to tell you? I do not know. In thinking of those I love, my reason is all gone from me, and I do fear sometimes that I must make a hospital for the hopelessly insane, and chain myself up there so I won't injure you.”
― Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson
― Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson
“Because the sunset, like survival, exists only on the verge of its own disappearing. To be gorgeous, you must first be seen, but to be seen allows you to be hunted.”
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
“When you come home, darling, I shant have your letters, but I shall have yourself, which is more-- oh more, and better, than I can even think! I sit here with my little whip, cracking the time away, 'till not an hour is left of it- then you are here! And joy is here-- joy now and forevermore! Tis only a few days, Susie, it will soon go away, yet I say, "go now, this very moment, for I need her- I must have her, oh, give her to me!" Sometimes when I do feel so, I think it may be wrong, and that God will punish me by taking you away; for He is very kind to let me write to you, and to give me your sweet letters, but my heart wants more.”
― Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson
― Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson
“Ma. You once told me that memory is a choice. But if you were god, you'd know it's a flood.”
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
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Namon’s 2025 Year in Books
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