I again conveyed his key into his pocket, and counterfeiting sleep—though I never once closed my eyes, lay in bed till after he arose and went to prayers—an exercise to which I had long been unaccustomed.

[…] Who, when he encounters an over-filled guest, / Either staggering homewards or taking his rest, / Sees him safe to his bug-walk […]

The restaurant had been talked up way too much, that it left me somewhat disappointed.

... on the other hand, they were encouraged to autobiographicalize traditional fictive forms, as Dickinson did when she turned hymns into monodramas. These crossings between autobiography and the fictive were regulated by the strong[…]