It's a peculiar aspect of human nature how we navigate the unwritten rules of social discourse. We're told not to discuss topics like sex, religion, and politics in polite company, yet these subjects increasingly find their way into conversations. But there's one topic that quiets even the most chatty: death. We dance around it, employing euphemisms like 'passed away' or 'no longer with us,' as if avoiding the word could somehow diminish its existence.

Friedrich Nietzsche is a thinker I approach with ambivalence. On a personal level, I find little to admire in the man. His life was marked by isolation, instability, and a troubling disdain for compassion. While undeniably influential, his works are complex to the point of opacity and rife with ideas that range from the unconventional to the outright dangerous.

Like the perfect-fitting jeans, we know comfort when we experience it, but capturing its essence proves elusive. Language, that marvelous invention of humankind, grants us the power of expression. With just 3,000 words, we can navigate 95% of written text. But then there are those elusive words that defy easy description, like quality and comfort. The more you mull them over, the slipperier they become.

Remember the thrill of cracking open a new book as a kid? Each page was a ticket to somewhere, a passage to unimaginable adventures, an encounter with an interesting character, and a life lesson learned the easy way. As a boy, Maniac Magee championed the power of empathy in bridging divides, while Hatchet's tale of survival instilled a respect for the force of nature, and The Life of Henry Ford unveiled the power of innovation. Back then, stories were a way to live a thousand lives, to explore worlds without ever leaving my room.

I remember sitting in class as a third grader, tasked with charting my classmates' favorite subjects. I meticulously colored each section as Physical Education dominated, claiming the lion's share. No surprise — neither recess nor lunch made the choices. Those simple, neatly divided wedges represent how many still visualize economics —a static pie to be sliced and distributed to various groups.

In a world where relentless waves of change crash against the shores of tradition, every breaker is part innovation, part upheaval. We're experiencing not just a clash of ideas but a storm of transformation, not unlike the agricultural revolution of 10,000 years ago or the industrial revolution that shaped the 18th and 19th centuries. Once again, the nature of power itself is shifting - from the traditional forces of violence and wealth to an era where knowledge reigns supreme. As these waves batter the foundation, unseen power struggles ripple beneath the surface.

Nebulae bloomed like cosmic flowers in an eternal garden; black holes spun in silent majesty. Amidst this cosmic ballet, where light takes millennia to traverse, an elegant and alien spacecraft glided silently.

In the quiet of a softly lit bedroom, a kid decked out in superhero pajamas lies under a fortress of blankets, thumbing through fantastical frames of comic lore. The child is absorbed in a classic confrontation: a superhero, donning a bright, emblematic costume, stands resolutely against a villain shrouded in a cloak of darkness. The hero's stance is unwavering, a symbol of righteousness, while the villain's crooked smirk portrays a menacing scheme.

I'm a longstanding member of team no-resolution. I've never understood the logic of waiting until January 1st to suddenly adopt new habits. Shouldn't we start right away if something is important enough to do? This isn't to say I'm indifferent to the spirit of new beginnings. Indeed, it's heartening to witness the birth (and the rare, steadfast nurture) of positive habits, but shouldn't such pursuits be a constant, year-round endeavor?

The 2011 U.S. Open semifinal brought forth a familiar challenge to Djokovic — match point down against Federer as he battled for ownership of sports history. At this moment, Djokovic waited, coiled like a warrior disciple under the tutelage of ancient Chinese general Sun Tzu.

Lorenzo became the de facto leader of Florence after his father died in 1469. He was thrust into a volatile political scene, a time of shifting alliances between prominent families vying for wealth and power in the vacuum left by receding imperial forces. Lorenzo navigated complex rivalries with the Pope, the King of Naples, and other Italian trade rivals like Venice and Milan.

The hull lurched as another wave crashed over the deck. The piercing wind whipped Samuel's soaked linen shirt like an executioner's lash as the slate-gray sky and sea melded into a purgatory without horizon or harbor. Despite his relentless gaze, there was no glint of land through the fog's fingers — only haunting foghorn blasts, warning of storms that could instantly shatter his dreams.

That shot was a "lagniappe" (pronounced LAN-yap), a delightful custom where a merchant gifts a small token to the customer during the purchase. While the Italians have perfected this practice, the term finds its roots in Louisiana French, evolving from a Quechua word introduced to New Orleans by the Spanish Creoles. 

What makes someone a philosopher? Is it formal logic training or scholarly expertise? Mastery of historical texts and ideas? Or is it the ability to live with practical wisdom? Coach Prime may not be a Stoic, yet his speeches contain distinct echoes of Epictetus and other sages.

My legs wobbled like I’d sipped the final drop at an eight-flight whisky tasting. But I was stone-cold sober, dizzy from spinning in circles to take in the panoramic view of the cyan city below. From atop the circular tower, I felt a sense of power — not over anyone or anything, but over myself.

"Marriage is holy and the bed undefiled. But the whoremonger and the fornicator, GOD will JUDGE! This ominous warning, seemingly suited for a late-night televangelist, was preached by Duffey Strode. In gripping footage of his sermons, Duffey's head thrusts forward, his face contorts, and his eyes bulge like a tree frog as he unleashes biblical diatribes with the conviction of a fiery street preacher. He was ten years old.

As my three-year-old daughter and I move through her bedtime routine each evening, she cheerfully sings her "bedtime steps" song. Yet when it's finally time for her to give in to sleep, the battle begins. She fiercely clings to wakefulness, insisting she's not tired at all. But one look at her eyes tells a different story.

Some people expect more from me. Sometimes, I expect more from myself. While success breeds success, it also spawns expectations—praise and accolades build like steam in a pot.

I’m often asked about my plans for entrepreneurial world domination. Sometimes, I even start working on the blueprints until the ghost of Adam Smith reminds me of the trade-offs involved.

Serendipity is magical, isn't it? Unfortunately, serendipitous moments are gradually slipping from our lives as we become consumed by rigid schedules and routines. On the bright side, these increasingly rare moments are even more enchanting.

The emotional weight of its accounts of oppression, unfamiliar Russian terminology, and the uncomfortable self-reflection it provokes make The Gulag Archipelago challenging. But most disturbingly, the book reveals unsettling parallels between the Soviet system and the fragility of democracy.