I've just been told by an old uni lecturer that about half an hour ago the poet Seamus Heaney passed away in Dublin. My lecturer had known him vaguely, and yet described him as 'a lovely person ... a gift'. I never did have the honor of meeting him personally, but I've always felt a sort of connection with him. He was the first contemporary poet I really identified with, and has remained a life-long favorite. I had a reader's relationship with him for most of my adult life, distant yet in one way very personal. R.I.P. Mr. Heaney. I've always wanted to tell you how much I've loved your work, and now I can't.