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It is a short-term hurt for a long-term heal; I suddenly understand, not through some feat of logic but through living alone with the only thing I have ever had or will ever have — the pearl of my Isness. I am not alone, I am the beloved, I am understood, and there is nothing I need ever change.
By Elizabeth Rose CampbellNovember 1981When I agonized last year over whether or not to buy a friend’s typesetting business, I could have used Michael Phillips’ and Salli Rasberry’s new book Honest Business. I would have known my answer in a couple of hours rather than dragging out indecision for months if I’d read the chapter on “tradeskill.”
By Dana P. ReinholdSeptember 1981By early July, something has run its course. I have filled some quota of failure. Certain delusions have been dealt with, and I am glad. Now I know what not to do.
By Elizabeth Rose CampbellSeptember 1981They dragged him to a pit and cast him in and he was left there to watch dawn turn to dusk every day for 98 rounds of the earth’s turning, mentally circulating all possible excuses why nothing ever got done until finally all rationalization sickened him.
By Wayne PerrasAugust 1981The cartoons from this selection are available as a PDF only.
By Tuli KupferbergMay 1981The real drama of his life took place as he entered the almost monastic study of his mansion — when he closed the door, he took the doorknob with him — and wrote with a creative fury that few other artists can even imagine. Even he was so busy as to hardly notice what he was doing, but in brief moments of repose he was aware of it.
By David GuyMarch 1981This book asks one question over and over: how much consciousness is the poet willing to grant to trees or hills or living creatures not a part of his own species?
By Robert BlyFebruary 1981Yet the mansion of fiction has many rooms, and enough of even its greatest writers do not fit our preconceived molds. Goodman was not that streetcorner babbler, wrapped up in remembered and invented anecdote, but a thinker, an observer, a contemplator.
By David GuyJanuary 1981Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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