Ogata Gekko, Picture of Officers and Men Worshipping the Rising Sun While Encamped in the Mountains of Port Arthur

If my self was my dwelling, then my body resembled an orchard that surrounded it. I could either cultivate that orchard to its capacity or leave it for the weeds to run riot in. I was free to choose, but the freedom was not as obvious as it might seem. Many people, indeed, go so far as to refer to the orchards of their dwellings as "destiny".

One day, it occurred to me to set about cultivating my orchard for all I was worth.

Here's a summer read, a short palate cleanser before we dive back into Montaigne, and as a special treat, it's not even that old. 1968! Our youngest book yet. I'm bending our rules hard this time.

Portrait of Michel de Montaigne, Augustin de Saint-Aubin, 1774

Thus, reader, myself am the matter of my book: there’s no reason thou shouldst employ thy leisure about so frivolous and vain a subject.

In 1570, Michel de Montaigne, then 37, retired from his law career. A year later, he began his real work. Sequestering himself in his study (literally a tower), he set about inventing, and even immediately perfecting, a new literary form: the essay.