Oliver Sacks, upon learning that he has terminal cancer: "There is no time for anything inessential." This brought to mind Roger Angell's amazing piece on aging in the New Yorker last winter, which this winter won a National Magazine Award. Takes my breath away.
I am not happy when people die, of course, but I am happy when I get to read an obit by Margalit Fox in the Times. She is the best in the business. Here's one for my fellow crossword-loving pals.
Meanwhile, some genius paired quotations from Samuel Beckett with photos of the horror that has been this winter in New England (so far!).
These confessions of a "comma queen" at the New Yorker made for some great reading for this editor, and I am delighted to learn that this essay is an excerpt from a forthcoming book. I am even more delighted that I will be able to meet the author in March—stay tuned for details!
Here's John Malkovich being everyone in every famous painting ever.
And yeah, Misha still has it. Totally.
Take a wicked awesome tour of Boston with a David Foster Wallace/Infinite Jest junkie.