Self-portrait with a Wren.
The Beautiful Letters| N° d'inventaire | 25107 |
| Format | 12.6 x 19.2 |
| Détails | XVIII + 286 p., paperback. |
| Publication | Paris, 2021 |
| Etat | Nine |
| ISBN | 9782251452005 |
Here is my letter to the World
Who has never written to me –
The simple News that Nature told –
With tender Majesty
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) spent her life in Amherst, on the family estate. She fell in love with a reverend, who ran away. She wrote poems, didn't know their worth (or pretended not to), and took as her teacher a famous dandy, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, whose stupidity—a century had passed—radiated like the sun. As the years passed, she went out less and less, signed her letters "Your Student," still wrote a few verses, and was interested in everything that died.
When she began writing to the Norcross sisters in 1859, Louise was sixteen, Frances thirteen. Twenty years later, they had not grown up, and were, for Emily, the same imaginary little girls. Loo was still sixteen, Fanny thirteen. "I wish we were children," she wrote to her brother. "I wish
that we are always children, how to grow up, I don't know."
The part of the Correspondence The translation here – Letters to T.W. Higginson and the Norcross Sisters – could only be made possible thanks to the remarkable critical apparatus of the American edition by Harvard University Press. The poems found in the second part of the volume speak for themselves.
Patrick Reumaux
Here is my letter to the World
Who has never written to me –
The simple News that Nature told –
With tender Majesty
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) spent her life in Amherst, on the family estate. She fell in love with a reverend, who ran away. She wrote poems, didn't know their worth (or pretended not to), and took as her teacher a famous dandy, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, whose stupidity—a century had passed—radiated like the sun. As the years passed, she went out less and less, signed her letters "Your Student," still wrote a few verses, and was interested in everything that died.
When she began writing to the Norcross sisters in 1859, Louise was sixteen, Frances thirteen. Twenty years later, they had not grown up, and were, for Emily, the same imaginary little girls. Loo was still sixteen, Fanny thirteen. "I wish we were children," she wrote to her brother. "I wish
that we are always children, how to grow up, I don't know."
The part of the Correspondence The translation here – Letters to T.W. Higginson and the Norcross Sisters – could only be made possible thanks to the remarkable critical apparatus of the American edition by Harvard University Press. The poems found in the second part of the volume speak for themselves.
Patrick Reumaux