The Muses Companion

The Muses Companion – March 29, 2024

Good day, readers. Today is March 29th, the 88th day of the year 2024, with 278 days remaining.

“As the curtain of March begins to close, let us reflect on the narratives woven throughout the month and prepare to greet the fresh tableau of April.”

Wallace Stevens

Today in Literary History:

On this day in 1973, Pablo Neruda was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. The Chilean diplomat and poet is renowned for his passionate, sensuous verses that range from the politically charged to the intimately personal, leaving a profound impact on both the literary and political landscapes of the 20th century.

Notable Birthdays:

Judith Guest (born March 29, 1936), the American novelist best known for her debut novel Ordinary People, was born on this day. Her exploration of family dynamics and mental health in her writing has touched millions, offering a nuanced portrayal of tragedy and personal growth.

Today’s Readings:

From Les Misérables by Victor Hugo:

“He did not study God; he was dazzled by him. He considered those magnificent conjunctions of atoms, which communicate aspects to material creation, as the perceptible traces of the divine thought.”

Literary Fact of the Day:

On this day in 1849, the UK patent was granted for the safety pin, an invention by American mechanic Walter Hunt. The safety pin, a small yet transformative invention, serves as a reminder of how even the most mundane objects can have significant historical and cultural implications, often featured in literature as symbols of connection and security.


March offers a landscape rich with the change of seasons, mirroring the transformative journeys found in literature. Whether in the poetic lines of Neruda or the narrative depths of Hugo, let these remaining days of the month inspire a deeper appreciation for the intricate tapestries of our lives.

Poem of the Day:

“March Elegy” by Anna Akhmatova:

I have enough treasures from the past
to last me longer than I need, or want.
You know as well as I . . . malevolent memory
won’t let go of half of them:
a modest church, with its gold cupola
slightly askew; a harsh chorus
of crows; the whistle of a train;
a birch tree haggard in a field
as if it had just been sprung from jail;
a secret midnight conclave
of monumental Bible-oaks;
and a tiny rowboat that comes drifting out
of somebody’s dreams, slowly foundering.
Winter has already loitered here,
lightly powdering these fields,
casting an impenetrable haze
that fills the world as far as the horizon.
I used to think that after we are gone
there’s nothing, simply nothing at all.
Then who’s that wandering by the porch
again and calling us by name?
Whose face is pressed against the frosted pane?
What hand out there is waving like a branch?
By way of reply, in that cobwebbed corner
a sunstruck tatter dances in the mirror.

Advice for Writers:

Consider the end of March as a metaphor in your writing—the transformation from one state to another, much like the shifting seasons. Explore themes of renewal and reflection, drawing from the profound works of Neruda and Hugo, to deepen your narrative’s emotional and philosophical resonance.

May your day be filled with insightful reflections and creative inspiration. Until tomorrow, continue to find joy and wisdom in the pages you turn.

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