Nashville rejected him as a singer, but he turned out to be one of the best songwriters in history. This is how Willie Nelson—poet, author, activist, cowboy, outlaw, outcast, misfit, and everyman—became the enduring face of American music.
Robert Langdon, the long-suffering but durable Harvard professor who is the protagonist in The Da Vinci Code and several other Dan Brown novels, has a thing for Harris Tweed. No, make that passion, verging on obsession. At one point in Brown’s new novel, Inferno, Langdon discovers another character sewing a secret pocket into his jacket. “The professor stopped and stared as if she had defaced the Mona Lisa,” Brown writes. “You sliced into the lining of my Harris Tweed?” Langdon erupts in what may his most emotional moment in the entire novel.
The desert in Kuwait seemed such a wasteland. Goose farms near the Iraqi border yielded huge quantities of s--t, which gathered along the sides of the roads and in the yard of the house where we were squatting. When the sandstorms blew, so did the s--t, smearing the world with its stench. That patch of desert already felt abandoned to the war. There was no question that it would slide in of its own weight; it was just a question of when. The border—the constant pounding of tanks, the hovering helicopters, and the military police patrolling—was a trembling faultline.