“How, in this blink of existence bookended by nothingness, do we attain completeness of being?”
More from Maria Popova
“If time is the substance we are made of, as Borges so memorably wrote the year the teenage…”
“The patience of making art is a lonely patience — one that demands the solitude essential…”
“Why put in the effort to explain why it isn’t a fit, if they haven’t done the homework to…”
“This awareness, so unnerving against the backdrop of our irrepressible yearning for…”