Seven meters an hour, top speed, pulling closer the edge of asphalt you cannot
see. Mizzling rain glistens your body stripped to the skin. You row,
row for your life in air thick with whirlpools of danger. I cannot look
at you without suffering your fragility. There reels from the morning
sky a piece of burnt orange paper. Death grazes among islands of turquoise.
You defy ordinary good sense. You defy death. You ask so little.
Godspeed, only, to the permeable horizon calling like harbor lights.
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.
New Founders Wanted
It’s now 250 years since America declared her independence and embarked on the experiment of fashioning a…
Why the Death Penalty Is a Sore Point for Papal Authority
Pope Leo XIV marked World Day Against the Death Penalty, observed on October 10, with the following…
Forget Odysseus. Aeneas Is the True American Hero.
Who is our Odysseus? Or more precisely, who is the most Odyssean hero of American film? Matt…