Aaron

In the natural world junger finds the scale to trace his fable on the fragility of order.

Order not natural but created, needing upkeep and renewal. And when it collapses, only principle remains, the inner strength to choose composure over the mob, and to carry peace inside when all else is taken.

Happy is the man whose will is not too painfully invested in his efforts. No house is built, no plan created, in which ruin is not the cornerstone, and what lives imperishably in us does not reside in our works. We perceived this truth in the flame, and its glow was not devoid of joy.

Bloated unfortunately, a sensible editor would've cut 200 pages off

Short, unpretentious, and full of soul

This is the sort of book I typically love so my expectations were perhaps too high, I found it an exercise in navel gazing full of trite metaphors (rockets.. Are like.. Penises. Wow!). Some nice moments but overall not a fan

The most irritating book I've ever read. Irritating in that uniquely American way, with all the usual faux pas related to identity. It's schmaltzy, overwrought, and littered with sentences that pained me to read.

“It's what his muscles know, especially that largest muscle in his inventory - his soul.” 

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