“The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom.” – David Foster Wallace
I’m beginning to see why so many of the depressives in my Creative Writing and English classes were so crazy about him and why that girl with the strong opinions and who always wore horn-rimmed glasses and thrift-shop sweater cried when he hung himself.
The author of this article, Alexander Nazaryan, sums it up nicely:
“[he writes about] all that messy stuff that goes into living a life, all the stuff that, if you try to write about it, you come off as either impossibly precious or…well, you’re going to come off as impossibly precious.
But he didn’t. His mind was a diamond drill that reached as close as any to the opaque stuff inside us all.
And like the finest drills, it finally broke.”