From the shelf
Nothing in the canon is tethered to September 2. One line is set aside for this year, the same line for every reader.
I do not pretend to understand the moral universe. The arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.
In 2039 this day opens on John Keats.
Arrow keys turn the day. S keeps the line. Slash focuses search.