Coffee Spoons

• The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

  For I have known them all already, known them all:
  Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
  I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
  I know the voices dying with a dying fall
  Beneath the music from a farther room.
  So how should I presume?

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• Last column of my undergraduate career!

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  • 1 year ago

  Writing this column has been more rewarding than I had ever imagined it could be.  I can’t believe how many people have stopped me in the halls (or in my yoga class), facebook messaged me, and emailed me about what I have written—and not just students, but professors and complete strangers, too. (Once the mother of my boss at the Princeton Historical Society happened to pick up the Targum on a day my column ran while visiting Rutgers.  The world is so small.)   

  So here’s the last one.  Thank you for reading.  

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