♥ Marginalia ♥

I have kept a notebook since I was nineteen, and I have never once gone back to find the thing I was sure I would need. That, it turns out, is not the point. The point…

Every walk I take now has a purpose, which is how I know something has gone wrong. I walk to the store, to the meeting, to close the rings on a watch that has opinions…

An onion does not care about your inbox. This is the first thing the kitchen teaches, and it teaches it with a knife in your hand, which concentrates the mind…

There is a folder on my desk, actual paper in an actual drawer, of letters I wrote and never sent. It has been growing for eleven years. A letter to a friend after an…

Somewhere I absorbed the idea that rereading a book is a small failure — a squandering of finite reading time in a world of infinite unread books. The to-read pile…