
In the early nineteenth century, the teenage Mary Godwin and her not-yet-husband Percy Bysshe Shelley left England for the Continent, traveling by foot and by mule, on the wings of love and youth.
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What I see when I get a moment to pause and make a little sense of the world

In the early nineteenth century, the teenage Mary Godwin and her not-yet-husband Percy Bysshe Shelley left England for the Continent, traveling by foot and by mule, on the wings of love and youth.
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Margaret Wise Brown (May 23, 1910–November 13, 1952) never did anything half-heartedly.
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Long before there was the Internet, there was the commonplace book — a creative and intellectual ledger of fragmentary inspirations, which a writer would collect from other books and copy into a notebook, often alongside his or her reflections and riffs.
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Firebrand Rewind highlights outstanding previously published articles. Originally published June 1, 2020 Recently, it was announced that the Wesley One Volume Commentary has been published (edited by Ken Collins and Rob Wall; Abingdon, 2020).
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Every part of you was made to know, love, and enjoy the Triune God. Your rational mind or intellect was created to comprehend something of the divine nature for your enjoyment. Your affections were made to be satisfied in God and to enjoy passionate worship of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
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In its original Latin use, the word genius was more readily applied to places — genius loci: “the spirit of a place” — than to persons, encoded with the reminder that we are profoundly shaped by the patch of spacetime into which the chance-accident of our birth has deposited us, our minds po
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It may be that creativity is just the name we give to how we awaken ourselves from the slumber of near-living.
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“I felt down in my soul the clear and unmistakable conviction to disobey all, and pursue my own way,” the young Whitman wrote of his momentous critique-walk with his greatest literary hero, Ralph Waldo Emerson (May 25, 1803–April 27, 1882) — the walk from which the young poet wrested his wis
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“Were it not for shadows, there would be no beauty,” wrote the Japanese novelist Junichiro Tanizaki in his glorious 1933 love letter to darkness, enveloped in a lament about the perils of excessive illumination.
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“In old age we should wish still to have passions strong enough to prevent us turning in on ourselves,” Simone de Beauvoir wrote as she considered how to keep life from becoming a parody of itself, while across the English Channel the ever-sagacious Bertrand Russell was offering his prescription
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