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Ernest Hemingway would have died rather than have syntax. Or semicolons. I use a whole lot of half-assed semicolons; there was one of them just now; that was a semicolon after “semicolons,” and another one after “now.”

And another thing. Ernest Hemingway would have died rather than get old. And he did. He shot himself. A short sentence. Anything rather than a long sentence, a life sentence. Death sentences are short and very, very manly. Life sentences aren’t. They go on and on, all full of syntax and qualifying clauses and confusing references and getting old. And that brings up the real proof of what a mess I have made of being a man.

Ursula K. Le Guin on being a man – the finest, sharpest thing I’ve read in ages 

(via explore-blog)

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Amelia Earhart deep-see diving off Block Island, 07/25/1929. This photograph, part of the series Photographic File of the Paris Bureau of the New York Times, was taken a day after Earhart’s thirty-second birthday and about 18 months before she penned her bold letter on marriage to her future husband.
Complement with Earhart on drive, education, and human nature.
(via Today’s Document)

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Amelia Earhart deep-see diving off Block Island, 07/25/1929. This photograph, part of the series Photographic File of the Paris Bureau of the New York Times, was taken a day after Earhart’s thirty-second birthday and about 18 months before she penned her bold letter on marriage to her future husband.

Complement with Earhart on drive, education, and human nature.

(via Today’s Document)