The Mystery of Pain

XIX. THE MYSTERY OF PAIN.

Pain has an element of blank ;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.

from Poems by Emily Dickinson (1890)
The Book of Martyrs	"I taste a liquor never brewed"

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