Saturday, November 23, 2047

From the shelf

Nothing in the canon is tethered to November 23. One line is set aside for this year, the same line for every reader.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.
Emily DickinsonPoem 314 · c. 1861

In 2048 this day opens on Maya Angelou.

Arrow keys turn the day. S keeps the line. Slash focuses search.

November 23 · Quotationary