So, in lieu of talking about resolutions and how to make them and how to keep them, I’m just going to tell you to stop what you’re doing (it’s Friday at 2 pm, let’s be honest, you’re not doing much right?) and read Joel Lovell’s beautiful profile on the writer George Sanders. There, you will absorb a hearty helping of grace and love and vulnerability and thoughtfulness, certainly enough to fuel you for a few days time of trying to be more graceful, loving, vulnerable, and thoughtful yourself.

(George Saunders writes amazing short stories. The most recent one I read was in The New Yorker, called “Escape from Spiderhead,” about “a man who takes part in futuristic clinical trials which test drugs that control emotions and feelings.” It is unfortunately behind the paywall, but if you are a subscriber, read it!)

If you are a writer, an artist, a reader, or just a human struggling to maintain a balance between being open to life and not being crushed by it, you will get something from Mr. Saunders.

Something like this:

“‘It would be so weird if we knew just as much as we needed to know to answer all the questions of the universe. Wouldn’t that be freaky? Whereas the probability is high that there is a vast reality that we have no way to perceive, that’s actually bearing down on us now and influencing everything. The idea of saying, ‘Well, we can’t see it, therefore we don’t need to see it,’ seems really weird to me.”

Or this:

“Having felt that abyss, I basically said, ‘O.K., capitalism, I have seen your gaping maw, and I want no trouble with you.’”

And then, once you’re done reading that, pre-order Saunders’ Tenth of December.

It is likely to stick with you longer than most resolutions you come up with, too.