Writing to Dickinson in 1869, the year before he met the poet in Amherst, Thomas Wentworth Higginson describes the discomfort that Dickinson's haunting presence could inflict on a man fully at home in domesticated art: "Sometimes I take out your letters & verses, dear friend, and when I feel their strange power, it is not strange that I find it hard to write . . ." (L461, #330a). Dickinson's writing, Higginson continues, provides him no clear target for his words: "I should like to hear from you very often, but feel always timid lest what I write should be badly aimed & miss that fine edge of thought which you bear. . . . I think if I could once see you & know that you are real, I might fare better." But when actually confronted with Dickinson's physical presence, Higginson had no better luck in reaching the heart of her mystery.