I Was Aware That A Quarter Of

When Emily Dickinson's Poems Were Published In The 1890s, They Were A Best-seller; The First Book Of Her Poems Went Through Eleven Editions Of A Print Run Of About 400. So The First Print Run Out Of Boston For A First Book Of Poems Was 400 For A Country That Had Fifty Million People In It. Now A First Print Run For A First Book Is Maybe 2,000? So That's A Five-time Increase In The Expectation Of Readership. Probably The Audience Is Almost Exactly The Same Size As It Was In 1900, If You Just Took That One Example.

Justice Is The Well Water Of The City Of Novgorod, Black And Sweet.

Fiction Writers Have Their Own World, And Poets Have Their Own World, And Literary Criticism Has Sort Of Passed Over Into Cultural Studies In The University, And So On. They Seem More Disconnected From Each Other Than They Did When I First Began To Write.

Environmental Regulation Looked Like It Was Going To Be Under Serious Attack, And They Were Giving All Of Those Speeches About Getting Government Off People's Backs.

There Isn't A River Or Creek In The Country - Or There Are Very Few - That Doesn't Have Some Small Group Of People Working On A Restoration Or Creek Cleanup Project. Let Me Give You One Example That's A Great Metaphor: In Washington, D.c., There Is A Group Called The Anacostia Watershed Society. Two Rivers Converge And Define Washington - One Which Everybody Knows About, The Potomac, And The Anacostia, Which They Don't. The Anacostia Is One Of The Most Polluted Urban Rivers In The Country.