The Age of Subtraction
She bought Stephen Sondheim a bottle of the best gin--then saw him pouring white wine. This was, they sighed, the Age of Subtraction.
She bought Stephen Sondheim a bottle of the best gin--then saw him pouring white wine. This was, they sighed, the Age of Subtraction.
I call out the list of what not to feed a mouse. No rhubarb. No raisins or onions, no fizzy bubbles, no caffeine. Definitely no booze. Which is a shame, because I bet she would be even cuter tipsy.
“It is impossible to prefigure the salvation of the world in the same language by which the world has been dismembered and defaced.”
I expected women's fantasies to be sensuous and subtle .... Instead they made me want to weep.
A young pastor said, “I was positively surprised how well it worked.” All he missed, he added, was emotion and spirituality.
Listening to a brilliant man who is living in his car, I have, in rapid succession, every reaction I deplore in others.
The Great Capitulation has begun. A cynical shrug could entrench it.
Remember folding white paper again and again, then snipping it with blunt scissors to make a snowflake? The magic never ends.
Why the French value dignity and the United States despises it. (Only a slight exaggeration.)
Do conservative Catholics even realize what inspired these gorgeous vestments?
This thing that I had avoided for years, that our entire culture avoids, turned out to be, overused but accurate word, transformative.
Oliver Burkeman wants us to work four hours only, relax about to-do lists, and realize what we expect of ourselves is already impossible