I'm not sure why this touched me, but it did. The inability to differentiate grief from joy gives me pause as well as the thought of the "something other surging against my heart". Finding the vocabulary to describe the inner workings is challenging. There don't seem to be enough words to describe the myriad of emotions skittering around in a human heart. Zora Neale Thurston certainly does a masterful, awe-inspiring job of it, though. And her abilities to describe the natural world go over the top! I just finished a reread of Their Eyes Were Watching God and it's as if there is music in her sentences.
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