One day after I'd heard Mother reading the Jungle Book to Sally and Jimmy, I went up to my room with a new ambition. Soon my wails of agony reached through the house, and Mother came running upstairs frightened nearly silly. "What happened? What is it?" I pointed to an almost blank sheet of paper and wept anew. ..."I c-can't write like Kipling," I sobbed.--Hildegarde Dolson

If there ever comes a day when E. finds me weeping over my keyboard, it will not be over Kipling but over the fact that I can't write like Adam Gopnik. His blog for Powell's last week is a fun read, mixing pop culture, mythology, literature and culture, each post with a beginning, middle, and end somehow taking you back to the beginning. Must go find a handkerchief now and mop my tears from the desktop.