I was reading a book review the other day — an essay on poetry, by Elisa Gabbert, as it happens — and came across the name of someone I once knew, a fabulously eccentric cult figure of the old school.

In a way, this is a familiar problem for us. So much of our relationship is rooted in the unsaid or the unsayable. She once explained that in China, it’s rare to hear “I love you”—to this day, we say ...