A Maximalist's Attempt to Live a More Edited Life
When there is no wind, row.
When you read a book as a child, it becomes part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your life does.
Jean Brodie would approve.
Autumn in New York.
A little bit sad
about the place you are leaving,
a little bit glad
about the place you are going.
The most evocative scene of New York in the fall–just perfect in every way.
A good reminder!
Oh, I wish something would happen. Nothing ever possibly in the least ever happens here.
mistrust all enterprises that require new clothes
“Just give him his Turkish caviar
and his bed of warm water
and he is happy as a bird.”