No man deserves to be praised for his goodness who has it not in his power to be wicked. Goodness without that power is generally nothing more than sloth or an impotence of will.
I was in Paris at an English-language bookstore. I picked up a volume of Dickinson's poetry. I came back to my hotel read 2 000 of her poems and immediately began composing in my head. I wrote down the melodies even before I got to a piano.
