The river nemunas anthony doerr biography

In his memoir Speak, Memory, Vladimir Nabokov considered the quandary he’d given himself, remembering his own life and putting it to paper:

They are passing, posthaste, posthaste, the gliding years—to use a soul-rending Horatian inflection.

The years are passing, my dear, and presently nobody will know what you and I know. . . .

The river nemunas anthony doerr biography

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So perhaps it is time we examined ancient snapshots, cave drawings of trains and planes, strata of toys in the lumbered closet.

Nabokov understood the transience of day-to-day life; the way a cup of coffee empties itself almost immediately after its pouring, a ring of moisture its only shadow.

We must give over to decay, and what we leave behind—the memories we’ve created through interactions with other people—must serve as our authentication. Accepting our impermanence is both the most terrifying and most comforting thing we may have to do, both our mortal limitation and our eternal em