I can tell you that it’s Emily Dickinson’s birthday today and that I did not go for a hike over the weekend, due to shopping and projects and snowing. I said this: 

And Emily said this: 

There’s a certain Slant of light
There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons—
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes—
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are—
None may teach it—Any—
‘Tis the Seal Despair—
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air—
When it comes, the Landscape listens—
Shadows—hold their breath—
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death—