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“Kaho,” by Haruki Murakami | the New Yorker

"It’s so strange how we’re able to carry forward this mystery of personal identity even when our present selves are so different from our future selves and from our past selves most of all. I think a lot about this question of, what is a person? Am I the same person as my childhood self? Sure, we share the same body, but even that body is so differ... See more

Maria Popova • Maria Popova — Cartographer of Meaning in a Digital Age

No one can love you enough. Build a shelter for the flies and the wasps instead. Make houses for the rats and the owls and the bluebirds. Sit for hours in the shade and watch how these tiny citizens move, floating or drifting or scrabbling over stones, swooping or creeping in rings of shadow, rings of light. Make space inside your liquid heart for

That is all we have, this moment with the world. It will not last, because nothing lasts. Entropy, mortality, extinction: the entire plan of the universe consists of losing, and no matter how much we find along the way, life amounts to a reverse savings account in which we are eventually robbed of everything. Our dreams and plans and jobs and knees... See more

Maria Popova • Losing Love, Finding Love, and Living with the Fragility of It All

”In my experience, here’s how essays form: You get all these bits of data that stick in your head… file drawers in your head. At a certain point you realize one of the drawers is now full, and you might have an essay.” Tim Kreider on the artist at midlife.

Life Is Short

Paul Graham paulgraham.com

“I have always been able to remember everything about you from the side. Your profile, the way you walk, how you talk—that’s the way I always think of you. From the front, I can’t recall a thing. Strange, isn’t it?”

—Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

Before I Go

stanmed.stanford.edu stanmed.stanford.edu