Toward the beginning of "Nod," Howe quote Augustine's passage about time, how the present has no duration, but is just an infintesimal point between past and future.

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My idea about the redundancy inherent in collections of poetry. How many books seem to contain multiple poems saying the same thing in different ways? The first ten or twenty of Shakespeare's Sonnets, for example. Yet this redundance must be a necessary one.

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We're getting snow tonight. It's not clear whether I will make it back to Kansas tomorrow afternoon.