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Seeing the Forest “Preoccupied with a single leaf. . . you won’t see the tree. Preoccupied with a single tree.… READ MORE
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XXII. When winter’s white breath muffles the earth And her powdered hair buries the last red leaf, All below sleep… READ MORE
You want to be a writer? First, be a copywriter. You need to tell a story, which sounds simple. If… READ MORE
Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.… READ MORE
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With what thoughts are these wings set Above the roar of the ocean’s estate, Where toil and its twin once… READ MORE
“Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money.”―
Essays on art, philosophy, consciousness, and economics—without the usual bullshit.