Somewhere I’d heard, or invented perhaps, that the only pleasures found during a waning moon are misfortunes in disguise. Superstition aside, I avoid pleasure during the waning or absent moon out of respect for the...

Erudition is the crude residue of wilted harvests; wit: the meddlesome weed that wilts them.

I don’t think each of us receives one harvest only–an after-death sort of payment for services rendered. I think we all get a lifetime full of little harvests–those small miracles that stand out from the...