Thomas Eakins, The Swimming Hole (1885), a detail of which is on the cover of my edition of the complete poems of Walt Whitman.
One of my teenagers loves the music of Lana del Rey, and has (vainly) tried to convince me of her excellence, but to me her music is nihilistic to its core. Seinfeld may have been cleverly marketed as “the show about nothing,” b…
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