Today I finished reading a book I loved about Alexander Hamilton’s wife, Eliza. It was an amazing read, especially coupled with our recent trip to New York City, where we saw the Broadway play, Hamilton. Both the read and the play were amazing and I can’t stop thinking about them.
Here is one of my favorite thoughts from the authors, that really resonates with me:
“They’d murdered my husband. They’d taken him from me. But I still had his words, and they were my solace. Hamilton could still speak to me through those pages. His love letters. His Ideas. His essays. Thousands of pages. They could kill him, but they couldn’t silence him. Not if his story was told. Not if his work was preserved. And I resolved to collect the pieces of the legacy Alexander left behind.”
Another reason for writing my fingers to the bone.