Melius enim iudicavit de malis benefacere, quam
mala nulla esse permittere.
—St. Augustine
There is a kind of crypt, between
This window and the window-screen,
In which fine silken webs, unseen,
Like wires in levitating tricks,
Accumulate, somehow, and fix
Bits of the outer world: small sticks
And past years’ leaves and wisps of straw
All hang, suspended in mid-fall,
Ensorcelled by some happy flaw
In joining that allowed the space
Through which stray things may find this place,
At once their tomb and saving grace,
Where gravity need not apply
And, unalive, they shall not die
As dreams do in the opened eye.
—Ryan Wilson
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.
If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
You Can’t See Everything
During marriage prep, my wife and I had to take the “Five Love Languages” test, a pseudoscientific…
Job and Her
It is said that Job lost everything, but she has lost more. All her possessions—the money, the…
Fjord’s Cold Reality
Fjord, Romanian director Cristian Mungiu’s Palme d’Or–winning film, is the kind of movie you desperately want to…