We like a Hairbreadth 'scape
It tingles in the Mind
Far after Act or Accident
Like paragraphs of Wind
If we had ventured less
The Breeze were not so fine
That reaches to our utmost Hair
Its Tentacles divine.
—poem #1175 by Emily Dickinson
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There is a holiness in the gift of remembering. Risk survived that writes Word and Spirit into the substance of our soul.
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