“Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, an afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can’t …
“Inebriate of air am I, And debauchee of dew, Reeling, through endless summer days, From inns of molten blue.” This is the second stanza from Emily Dickinson’s “Poem # 214.” Often referred to by the first line of the first stanza, this poem delves into what provides happiness to the soul. The voice of the poem is drunk on …
