refuses to feast on the rotten meat of melancholy, though he can barely long for day and stave off suicide. Hopkins's syntax is so mangled, the lines so packed with heavy plodding accents and stilted comma stops, that he speaks as if through a chokehold. Yet somehow the depth of his suffering proves the vigor of his faith. Carrion Comfort
from Mary Karr: The Washington Post: Poet's Choice: Lenten remorse: Hopkins's dark night of the soul
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