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…I could call you, with even greater truth-my Love-there, it is said-for I most certainly love you and in all ways possible to man and most fiercely. It is a love for which there is no place in this world-a love my diminished reason tells me can and will do neither of us any good, a love I tried to hide cunningly from, to protect you from, with all the ingenuity at my command.”

“I have known you were my fate, however from time to time I may have disguised that knowledge from myself. I have dreamed nightly of your face and walked the streets of my daily life with the rhythms of your writing singing in my silent brain. I have called you my Muse, and so you are, or might be, a messenger from some urgent place of the spirit where essential poetry sings and sings…

Feminists feminists blah blah blah