The Inklings Continued RSS

The Inklings' ideal was unrealized, but not unrealizable : we must seek them out.

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When wheat is ripening properly, when the wind is blowing across the field, you can hear the beards of the wheat rubbing together. They sound like the pine needles in a forest. It is a sweet, whispering music that once you hear, you never forget.
— Norman Borlaug (via jdietz)