Today, I read for the first time Emily Dickinson's obituary written by her sister-in-law, Susan. The language is beautiful and describes a woman who was far from silent and sickly, as she's often portrayed. She was supernaturally intense, a genius, and well-loved.

The 140th anniversary of Emily Dickinson's passing is on March 15th.

My favorite part from Susan's obit:

"A Damascus blade gleaming and glancing in the sun was her wit. Her swift poetic rapture was like the long glistening note of a bird one hears in the June woods at high noon, but can never see. Like a magician she caught the shadowy apparitions of her brain and tossed them in startling picturesqueness to her friends, who, charmed with their simplicity and homeliness as well as profundity, fretted that she had so easily made palpable the tantalizing fancies forever eluding their bungling, fettered grasp."