Letter from . . . October 2015
Getting away from it all
Time on an island in Hudson, New York, occasions some musings on the greatest shipwreck survivors in literature.
I look’d now upon the world as a thing remote, which I had nothing to do with, no expectation from, and indeed no desires about: In a word, I had nothing indeed to do with it, nor was ever like to have; so I thought it look’d as we may perhaps look upon it hereafter, viz. as a place I had lived in, but was come out of it; and well might I say, as Father Abraham to Dives, Between me and thee is a great gulph fixed.
—Daniel...
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