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“Now through the white orchard my little dog
romps, breaking the new snow
with wild feet.
Running here running there, excited,
hardly able to stop, he leaps, he spins
until the white snow is written upon
in large, exuberant letters,
a long sentence, expressing
the pleasures of the body in this world.

Oh, I could not have said it better myself.”

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source: “The Storm,” in Winter Hours: Prose, Prose Poems, and Poems (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2000), 90.

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medium: Poem

“It is the speck that makes the cloud that wrecks the vessel, children, yet no one fears a speck.”

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source: The Letters of Emily Dickinson vol 2, ed. by Thomas H. Johnson (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1958), 490.

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medium: letter

notes: letter to Louise and Frances Norcross, Dickinson's first cousins, early October 1871

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