Jeremiah Webster’s happy place is a giant Hogwartsian library. Domed ceiling, multiple levels, the coziest light, and teeming with curious people pouring through the pages of poets and philosophers looking for magic. The kind of magic that animates the imagination in the pursuit of the good, the true, and the beautiful. Talking with Jeremiah, you'll see what I mean. He's always ready with a poem, recited (or more accurately, relished) from memory, to elevate the conversation. I asked him once how he has all these poems committed to memory, and he gave me a simple answer I wasn't looking for, "It makes for a rich inner life." I believe him.
We chat about the difference between being jaded and cynical, the importance of language in songs intended to be sung by many, and he sends us off with the last two stanzas of Auden's September 1, 1939.
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