Retreated from the world and found something there.

What do you call a woman who wouldn't cross the lawn for Emerson, but rigged a rope from her window for children she refused to greet at the door?

He calculated that ten hours of punching holes produced ten seconds of music, and he kept punching for forty years.

How does a shrimp seller who couldn't swim, living alone on a sandspit reachable only by boat, end up on Betty Parsons's walls beside Pollock and Rothko?

What happens when a philosopher who hated water contracts a disease made of it?

What does a self-taught artist do when the family finally retires the wood stove and his only source of ink disappears?

What does a man do for twenty-five years after walking offstage at the Paris Conservatoire in disgust?

He sailed to Tahiti, India, and Japan in 1920 and never left his cabin — so what exactly was he doing in there?

A Victorian poet built a second house identical to his first, same rooms, same floor plan, so his cat wouldn't feel disoriented.

For ten years, a Chicago dishwasher kept a secret diary grading the local weatherman against reality.

Paul Dirac's colleagues measured his speech in a unit they invented: one word per hour.

She was being read by twelve million people a day and answered every fan letter by hand. So she dynamited a boulder on a treeless rock and built somewhere to hide.

He kept a shoebox labeled Mouse Material; the archivist who finally opened it found the contents of a vacuum cleaner.