Come see them for yourself—American Prophets is open now at the American Writers Museum.
🎟️ Get tickets at awmamericanprophets.org
Come see them for yourself—American Prophets is open now at the American Writers Museum.
🎟️ Get tickets at awmamericanprophets.org
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Storyteller & author Brad Wagnon preserves Cherokee history and values through his books and teachings. Explore his reflections on faith, identity, and storytelling in American Prophets — now open at the AWM!
Storyteller & author Brad Wagnon preserves Cherokee history and values through his books and teachings. Explore his reflections on faith, identity, and storytelling in American Prophets — now open at the AWM!
Get tickets to American Prophets today! awmamericanprophets.org
Get tickets to American Prophets today! awmamericanprophets.org
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Check out the full list here: americanwritersmuseum.org/awm-staff-pi...
Check out the full list here: americanwritersmuseum.org/awm-staff-pi...
Get tickets to the event here:
www.eventbrite.com/e/american-p...
Get tickets to the event here:
www.eventbrite.com/e/american-p...
We are saddened to learn of the passing of primatologist Jane Goodall. Goodall was the author of numerous books on conservation, zoology, & of course, chimpanzees. She was an unwavering activist for the natural world & will be deeply missed.
#JaneGoodall
We are saddened to learn of the passing of primatologist Jane Goodall. Goodall was the author of numerous books on conservation, zoology, & of course, chimpanzees. She was an unwavering activist for the natural world & will be deeply missed.
#JaneGoodall
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“Crossovers are the next step,
I build up speed and show some pep,
Sometimes my head says no no
But the ice is not my foe
Hard work and practice are my friends
I dream gold medals meet me at the end"
“Crossovers are the next step,
I build up speed and show some pep,
Sometimes my head says no no
But the ice is not my foe
Hard work and practice are my friends
I dream gold medals meet me at the end"
“I awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside of my window and sunlight pouring through my sheer blinds. I pulled my covers up and stepped out of bed, unexcited for the day to come. I had dreamt of my wish finally coming true...”
“I awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside of my window and sunlight pouring through my sheer blinds. I pulled my covers up and stepped out of bed, unexcited for the day to come. I had dreamt of my wish finally coming true...”
“Fight like a Spartan,’ Mama always said. And so I do. Every cracked step. Every rejection. Every page I write is another oar in the water. A stroke of will. A push towards the waters of invisible rebellion against fate.”
“Fight like a Spartan,’ Mama always said. And so I do. Every cracked step. Every rejection. Every page I write is another oar in the water. A stroke of will. A push towards the waters of invisible rebellion against fate.”
“He wrote about the sweet taste of his wife’s tea. The sound of Lucy’s seraphic laughter. The warmth of sunlight through the laundry. The colour of the fence he’d once painted with too much pride..."
“He wrote about the sweet taste of his wife’s tea. The sound of Lucy’s seraphic laughter. The warmth of sunlight through the laundry. The colour of the fence he’d once painted with too much pride..."
“How do you know when you're in love with someone?
she asked me. To which I responded: When your thoughts connect them to every season, when you begin to hear them in your dreams...”
“How do you know when you're in love with someone?
she asked me. To which I responded: When your thoughts connect them to every season, when you begin to hear them in your dreams...”
“That’s what Olena and I did: we remained. We returned. And each return built something. Not dramatic, not perfect—but undeniably real. There’s no certificate for what we did. No transcript, no final project. Just one voice...”
“That’s what Olena and I did: we remained. We returned. And each return built something. Not dramatic, not perfect—but undeniably real. There’s no certificate for what we did. No transcript, no final project. Just one voice...”
“I never reached the end I imagined. I never found the final, pristine envelope with my name on it. But I’ve learned the rooms. I’ve learned their names, their scents, their rhythms. And I have survived the journey between them.”
“I never reached the end I imagined. I never found the final, pristine envelope with my name on it. But I’ve learned the rooms. I’ve learned their names, their scents, their rhythms. And I have survived the journey between them.”
“She will tell you she loves you, and the words will seem to hang in the stillness between you. It will feel like a promise. Whisper good night as she squeezes your hand and quietly pads out of the room,”
“She will tell you she loves you, and the words will seem to hang in the stillness between you. It will feel like a promise. Whisper good night as she squeezes your hand and quietly pads out of the room,”
“’No! You can't go out there. There is a MURDERER. Plus, it's getting dark.’ Mrs. Quinn shout-whispered. I knew what I had to do."
“’No! You can't go out there. There is a MURDERER. Plus, it's getting dark.’ Mrs. Quinn shout-whispered. I knew what I had to do."