Page:The Life and Letters of Emily Dickinson (1924).pdf/75

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THE END OF PEACE

51

climax of a story, or one of her own flashes. It was entirely spontaneous, her spirit seemed merely playing through her body as the aurora borealis through the darkness of a Summer night.

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Fascination was her element. She was not daily bread, she was star dust. Her solitude made her and was part of her.