Soul selects her own society. Dickinson’s Poetry: “The Soul selects her own Society—” 2022-10-26
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The phrase "soul selects her own society" comes from the poem "The Soul selects her own Society" by Emily Dickinson. In this poem, Dickinson explores the idea that the soul, or the innermost essence of a person, has the ability to choose its own companions and the company it keeps.
According to Dickinson, the soul is selective and discerning when it comes to choosing its society. It does not simply accept any and all company, but rather it looks for those who are truly compatible and in alignment with its own values and desires. The soul is not influenced by external factors such as wealth, status, or appearance, but rather it is drawn to those who are genuine and authentic in their relationships.
This idea suggests that the soul has a deep understanding of itself and what it needs in order to thrive. It recognizes that the company it keeps can either nourish and support its growth, or drain and hinder it. The soul therefore makes conscious choices about the society it surrounds itself with, in order to foster a sense of harmony and fulfillment.
In today's society, it can be easy to get caught up in the pressure to fit in and conform to certain social norms and expectations. But the idea of the soul selecting its own society reminds us that it is important to stay true to ourselves and to seek out relationships and communities that align with our authentic selves.
Ultimately, the concept of the soul selecting its own society encourages us to be mindful of the company we keep and to make conscious choices about the relationships we cultivate. It reminds us that the quality of our relationships can have a profound impact on our overall well-being and happiness, and that it is important to seek out those who uplift and support us on our journey.
艾米莉•狄金森诗歌赏析：The Soul selects her own Society_沪江英语学习网
I am Helen, and what are you doing? Midnight, the stories say, is the proper hour for witchery and séances and the like. Rochester arrives with the new year, a dark man on a dark horse. She closes her eyes, trying to stop the onslaught of tears. Eight years ago, she promised Helen that she wouldn't leave her. He tells them sideways truths and watches them squirm. Something of Thornfield might be saved. I put together that that when she says "her soul" it is meant as her own conscious.
Indicate and explain the poetic devices in "The Soul selects her own Society—."
We will all try. Rochester—" On his name, a sob rises up and chokes her. She shakes her head frantically, dark hair whipping across her face. He keeps his voice to a low murmur. And if she loses the path in darkness, in the valley of the shadow— The stars surround Helen, shining on her and through her and from her, and the voice is her own. Every day, Helen tries to warn her, to lift the mist from her eyes.
The Soul selects her own Society Poem Summary and Analysis
Jane takes a cautious step closer and squints until she makes out a hidden door. She dreams of kissing her, but she never remembers it when she wakes. Helen is so proud of her. Every fire drains something from her, even though she can't be burned. She twirls to greet her mother, but the silhouette in the doorway is all wrong, too tall and broad, and there's a smell, not jasmine, but iron and smoke and— "Your mother ran away," Monsieur Rochester says. She did not know a spirit could be so tired.
Jane has been happy here. A tingle of shock where there would be a touch. He has the eyes of a loup-garou, yellow in the dark, coming closer. The two of them stand still as their shadows drift across the grass. She bites her lower lip. Her face is splotched with dirt, nose dripping, eyes rubbed scarlet.
Dickinson’s Poetry: “The Soul selects her own Society—”
Jane turns her eyes to the horizon. And all of it at once. Rochester was late to bed, and the ashes are still smouldering. You want more life. The candle lights up once more, and Jane grips it tightly.
Jane hadn't realised, until now, how much she cares for the child. Rochester kissed her cheek. Won't or can't, it makes no difference. Fragile arms, fiercely entwined. Helen knows her scripture. Up the main stairs, through one hall and another, to a dusty servants' passage at the back of the house.
The flame stops flickering. Jane and Bertha are standing on a hill at the edge of the grounds. Jane has never seen her before, but she could not mistake her for a ghost—the unwashed hair, the spicy smell of her sweat. She readies herself for the scream—but it doesn't come. That's why he devours so much, yet remains so empty. And it's neither a command nor a judgement.
She won't leave her again, not for a second. Bertha looks up at her, eyes round, suddenly a petulant little girl. But it's worth it, because Jane is free. She prays, and pushes with all her strength. Here, Dickinson among other notable women is commemorated with a place setting at a massive triangular table, representing women's creative power through history.
She's often gone all night; never more than two or three. He throws himself at her, seizing her by the hair. . This isn't even her first deathbed of the night. He seems to believe that, after all, he can read her mind.
Jane only pauses for a breath before walking on. The hearth is warm, but the walls are cold. They are so young. I want to see. He is a good man, Adèle thinks, as she's falling back to sleep. He returns hours later, in the guise of a fortune-teller.
