marginalia || Excerpted from “What Is Art?” [from Last Steps: The Late Writings of Leo Tolstoy]

I have read Leo Tolstoy. Granted, I only read a snippet of his -- and, granted, the initial elation eventually shattered upon learning that the What Is Art? that I read was a mere excerpt -- but I've read Leo Tolstoy. More disclaimers, I suppose: It's not his fiction, and am I not "supposed to" [...]

When We Read for Other People: Me and The Architecture of Happiness by Alain de Botton, and Then Some:

The house gives signs of enjoying the emptiness. It is rearranging itself after the night, clearing its pipes and cracking its joints. This dignified and seasoned creature, with its coppery veins and wooden feet nestled in a bed of clay, has endured much: balls bounced against its garden flanks, doors slammed in rage, headstands attempted [...]

marginalia || Breakfast with Socrates, by Robert Rowland Smith

In the 3.5 years I’ve had to study philosophy for school (it has nothing to do with my major, but it’s core curriculum), several times I’ve allowed a blasphemous thought to slide in: Duh. Especially in moments of great pressure. Aren’t philosophers just verbalizing very obvious things? All that I think, therefore I am crap? [...]

marginalia || When You Catch an Adjective, Kill It: The Parts of Speech, for Better and/or Worse, by Ben Yagoda

I suppose it is the height of dorkiness that I even possess this book. I suppose it is not a valid explanation that this small hardbound was brand-new (still in its plastic wrap) when I bought it for PhP50.00, about a dollar. I also suppose that the marginalia scattered on its pages (because why stop [...]