Something Thoreau wrote on April 29, 1852

“The art of life, of a poet’s life, is, not having anything to do, to do something.”

He could have aced “of a poet’s life” and the rule would still apply. Almost any activity, outside of that which is illegal, [grossly] immoral or fattening, can be wrung of some productive aspect.

MG signing off (because sitting around is just plain boring too)

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