In the very assurance of sorrow’s fading there is more sorrow

A quick one today, on the anniversary of the death of Irish novelist, poet, and playwright Samuel Beckett—a letter he wrote in 1963 to dear friend Alan Schneider, who at the time was grieving the death of his father. A letter I’ve read many times. So delicately written. Not a word wasted.

I think this is the final newsletter before Christmas, but it’s b…