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I worked on the submodule responsible for Proprioception, which is, I think, a beautiful word—pro-pri-o-cep-tion!—and also the process by which organisms judge the position of their own body parts in space.

Robin Sloan • Sourdough: A Novel

“He remembers suddenly her telling him once, in a fleeting moment of confidence, that she’d never been completely bare until she married him. Every few weeks she disappears into the bathroom to wax her legs, a private ritual he’d once found distasteful but now finds endearing. He has come to know the geography of her body: the moles, the hairline,

The essayist dreams of being a prism, through which other light passes, and fears ending up merely as a mirror, showing the same old face. He has only his Self to show and only himself to blame if it doesn’t show up well.

Adam Gopnik • Paris to the Moon

Let age be age. Let your old relative or old friend be who they are. Denial serves nothing, no one, no purpose.

Ursula K. Le Guin • No Time To Spare: Thinking About What Matters

Beauty, or our idea of it, is always rooted in deep desires, capitulations, and pathologies. It makes certain things so obvious. How we spend the present trying to secure the future, and thus squander what’s in front of us. How we fail to appreciate what we may later understand as an experience of unbelievable plenty: unlined skin, spare time on Sa

How to Apologize: Reflections on Forgiveness, Self-Forgiveness, and the Paradox of Doing the Right Thing

Maria Popova themarginalian.org

The essay ends in a kind of dream—with the image of a plush red curtain clasped and crushed in grief. And we’re happy to follow Woolf there, in part, because of that dash in her opening sentence, which denotes a passage from the dream-fugue of sickness, depression, and undirected reading into the dirigible madness of writing.

Literary Hub • On a Wonderful, Beautiful, Almost Failed Sentence By Virginia Woolf

What must I give more death to today, in order to generate more life? What do I know should die, but am hesitant to allow to do so? What must die in me in order for me to love? What not-beauty do I fear? Of what use is the power of the not-beautiful to me today?

Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés • Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype

To skeptics, psychogenic pain is somehow less real than other pain. But all pain is in the mind.