blame is just as dear as Praise / And Praise as mere as Blame -
[[1320]; Emily Dickinson; >1886]
The Maples never knew that you were coming - / I declare - how Red their Faces grew - / But March, forgive me - / And all those Hills you left for me to Hue - / There was no Purple suitable - / You took it all with you -
[[1320]; Emily Dickinson; >1886]
I ask only / That the rope / Isn't silk, / (Silk doesn't break) / Nor thread, / (Thread does.) / If it lifts / And lowers / Common things, / It will do.
[To W. C. W. M. D.; Alfred Kreymborg; 1920]
an artificial stance, an impossibility: to speak and listen simultaneously.
[to have been, instead; Stephen Motika; 2012]
the clatter of bones on buried stones, on those leaves fallen, but not as fast as I fell.
