Beautiful memoir of a graduate student. Perhaps the best I've read online.

The longer and harder I worked, the more I realized I didn’t know. Papers that took days or weeks to work through cited dozens more that seemed just as essential to digest; the piles on my desk grew rather than shrunk. I discovered the stark difference between classes and research: With no syllabus to guide me I didn’t know how to keep on a path of profitable inquiry. Getting “wonderfully lost” sounded nice, but the reality of being lost, and of re-living, again and again, that first night in the old woman’s house, with all of its doubts and dead-ends and that horrible hissing voice was … something else. At some point, flipping the lights on in the library no longer filled me with excitement but with dread.