Gone. The saddest word in the language. In any language.

- Mark Slouka

I distrust the perpetually busy; always have. The frenetic ones spinning in tight little circles like poisoned rats. The slower ones, grinding away t…

- Mark Slouka

Every step you take, a million doors open in front of you like poppies; your next step closes them, and another million bloom. You get on a train, yo…

- Mark Slouka

Most of the time when something goes bad—a marriage, a war, a run of good luck—you don’t know it. It’s like in the cartoons, only less funny. You run…

- Mark Slouka

The 'deep' civic function of the humanities . . . is something understood very well by totalitarian societies, which tend to keep close tabs on them,…

- Mark Slouka

History resists an ending as surely as nature abhors a vacuum; the narrative of our days is a run-on sentence, every full stop a comma in embryo. But…

- Mark Slouka

Maybe I lacked coping skills. Maybe I was weak. I cared for people for no better reason than they seemed to care for me, acknowledge me. It didn’t se…

- Mark Slouka

Kafka didn't save me. He just told me I was drowning.

- Mark Slouka

Whether they really believe in their brave new world, however, is ultimately beside the point. They're building it. And in the friction-free future, …

- Mark Slouka