The sad news broke early this morning that Christopher Hitchens, the celebrated, provocative and brilliant journalist/essayist, has passed away at the age of 62 following a battle for the past year and a half with cancer of the esophagus.
Even when I disagreed with Hitchens – and those times were numerous – I had to have grudging respect for the man, because it can’t be said that he lacked consistency. He was one of the rare writers in this day and age who strove in his craft not for sake of political or ideological favor, but instead for nothing more or less than understanding of the human condition and its derivative culture.
Here is Hitchens’ final essay for Vanity Fair, appearing in next month’s issue. In it he wrestles with thoughts of his own mortality and determination of spirit.
And now, there is something that I feel led ...





