“Saying nothing,” wrote Emily Dickinson, “sometimes says the most.” The Crimson has never subscribed to the saying-nothing doctrine, and so in the wake of the October 23 launch of the Digital Emily Dickinson Archive we take the opportunity to express our pleasure in seeing all of Dickinson’s oeuvre united in one place for public enjoyment.

The origin story of the Dickinson Archive, marked with twists, turns, and bumps, is just as compelling and confusing as one of the author’s enigmatic poems. After decades of ownership disputes, things seemed finally to have fallen into place this past July: Amherst consented to offer up its collection of over 500 digitized works for inclusion in Harvard’s budding online anthology. But just as Harvard neared the finish line of the marathon effort, the Boston Globe reported that Amherst officials took issue with the unilateral, controlling way in which they believed Harvard had carried out the project.

Perhaps, as certain Amherst officials complain, Harvard should have paid Amherst more heed throughout the development process and credited Amherst more visibly on the final product. After all, the Dickinson Archive would remain the stuff of dreams without Amherst’s commitment to making it reality. But ultimately, the squabble between Amherst and Harvard focuses on petty concerns and detracts attention from the larger significance of Dickinson’s corpus existing all together on a single, easily accessible platform.

Few deny Dickinson’s talent or influence on poetry, literature, and art in general. Few contend that a literary education is complete without at least some time and thought devoted to Dickinson’s work. And until now, few could delve as deep into exploration of Dickinson’s repertoire as they might have liked. We are grateful that Harvard and Amherst have been able to resolve other differences over the years to facilitate this exploration at long last.

For example, Harvard at first wanted to charge a subscription fee to online viewers, while Amherst’s contribution came with the caveat that all works be available for free. Thankfully, Harvard capitulated, ensuring the wider dissemination of Dickinson’s opus. Amherst also desired that all Dickinson’s writings—not only her officially recognized poems as Harvard had planned but also her jotted-down musings and notes—appear in the archive. On this point, Harvard and Amherst came to another agreeable compromise: The manuscripts would join the initially posted poems in the future. We hope that Harvard and Amherst will similarly manage to set aside whatever quarrels remain in the interest of academic and public enrichment.

With her surviving works compiled online, Dickinson belongs no longer only to scholars lucky enough to travel from Massachusetts city to city to scrutinize them in person. Instead, she belongs to anyone and everyone who cares enough to sit at a computer, run a Google search, and click on the archive’s website. This is not only a service to academia; it’s also a service to humanity.