3 and a half minutes of golden wisdom nuggets. Thank you Granta and Mr. Saunders.

Congratulations han kang!!'*

Wow. What a treasure.

really enjoyed Jennifer's story in the Best Young Novelists book from last year

Hello 🎉🎉

Could Could

am evelyn

Hello 🌽😃🎉

.kela

Papiabas

Esse e o homem dos meus Sonhos🥰💖😘♥️😂

I like "rooted in time and rooted in space" very very much. Yes. Social media is not only hugely addictive but also manipulative. Ty for posting; I just finished Bernum (sp?) Wood on talking book. Incredible to see some of my own thoughts in these characters. Fear, I believe, does lie at the root of the capitalistic fascists and their killing of Mother Earth. Mostly fear of death. In Scientific American a number of years ago, an article stated that scientists were actively trying to put humans into robot bodies. Until then I believe the billionaires will, in fact, build bunkers. I'm thinking underground with greenhouses and solar power very carefully used to keep them and their families alive until the robot bodies are available. Blessed 🐝 Mother Earth and all Our Other Species Companions. I hope you make it.

After The Luminaries and Birnam Wood, I'm so looking forward for this novel.

Friday, March 15th 2024, i'm hearing the voice of my favorite author. that's special.

Ken is my favourite author and his themes of loss and rediscovery of spiritual humanity in his books strongly resonate with me, another survivor of Brethren hypocrisy. 100% with you Ken aboùt Choral Evensong...sublime bliss.

did she mean to describe herself as a "reactionary writer" ?

I have goosebumps. I so love F. Scott Fitzgerald. ❤

Sorry, but he keeps misquoting this most beautiful of poems, and also leaving out lines occasionally, so that the rhymes are lost.

Please can I friendship with you beautiful sweet heart

As far as i know a guitarist Chet Atkins what is the relation with her..

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L L L L Llllc NH nhi 0p0x7😊😊 0:54

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Maayong pasko kanatong tanan

Every decade the selection was worse in quality and in the ability of predict the future. Maybe in 2033 there will be none. That might be the best for all.

I could not understand a word. But I loved it.

I love this collection.

Wonderful!

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,- That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain- To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:-Do I wake or sleep?

Very cool! Found this through my Joyce Carol Oates MasterClass guidebook, on the subject of 'Dream Logic' Cheers!

A creative genius from America ! He needs to be read and appreciated as much as possible. He is grea author.

Thank you for the advice - just what I needed to hear.

"If we could more fully realize what we actually are, the world would transform," says George Saunders on accepting our smallness and finitude. kzbin.info/www/bejne/pnLamHqmi7N9hq8

Wow, Will Poulter grew up.

contemporary Irish writing seems promising

I didn't have a traditional college experience, and so (amongst other things) the tidbit in 'The Idiot' about aesthetic and ethical living literally blew my mind -- in terms of just, like, how many different things I've learnt about myself, through that.

she has a beautiful way about her, and is a true original. i hope to see more writing from her in the future. a novel maybe?

20

She talks like a thirteen year old.

Interesting and well articulated.

History says, Don't hope On this side of the grave But then, once in a lifetime The longed- for for tidal wave Of justice can rise up And hope and history rhyme. Seamus Heaney.