“I wanted to fill my elegy with light of all kinds. But death makes us stingy. There is nothing more to be expended on that, we think, he’s dead. Love cannot alter it. Words cannot add to it. No matter how I try…it remains a plain, odd history.” So writes Anne Carson at the beginning of Nox, as she creates an epitaph on paper for her brother. Elegy and eulogy do not share a root but they share the difficult task of remembering what is lost, as I do here for my friend Patsy. You can read it here: For Patricia Yaeger: A Modified Eulogy (pdf) (from the Feminist Friendship Archive)
