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What is wanting [in Twain’s description of his brother Henry’s death in Life on the Mississippi], apparently, is the tragic imagination that, through communal form or ceremony, permits great loss to be recognized, suffered, and borne, and that makes possible some sort of consolation and renewal. What is wanting is the return to the beloved […]

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For with us pity for others is the price we are anxious to pay for the privilege of our self-pity. Robert Penn Warren. World Enough and Time: A Romantic Novel. Random House, New York. 1950. Pg 7. One thought on this: pity is not compassion, but it seems similar.

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