I am only posting this because there are a few wonderful snippets about William F. Buckley, Jr. like the following:

"Pup still used the word-processing system he first learned in the early 1980s. Generations of his computer gurus had had to install this antiquated system in his increasingly sophisticated computers, which were like F-22 fighter jets with the controls of a Sopwith Camel.

Pup stood, holding onto the edge of his desk for support, and began to dictate the last chapter of his memoirs about Barry Goldwater.

'The years ahead were, by the standards of Barry Goldwater, unhurried. . . .'

What amazed me, and still does now, was how fluent it was. Rereading the final chapter in the recently published book, it’s remarkable how little changed it is from what issued from Pup’s oxygen-deprived blue lips that rainy morning in his study. His mind was a still brightly burning fire deep within the wreckage of his body. He made hardly any self-corrections as he spoke. The words came out punctuated and paragraphed. And fast. My fingers scuttled across the keyboard like crabs. In less than 10 minutes, we were on the last paragraph of the last book he would complete.

'And that was that. No one else comes to mind who sustained for so long a comparable reputation for candor and courage. Over the years, if active in the political community, one comes across rejected aspirants for the presidency. But even in that rare company Goldwater, whether initiating a call from the South Pole to my wife or puddle-jumping the Grand Canyon for his friends, was unique, and will forever remain so.'

My eyes misted up as I typed. I said, 'It’s beautiful, Pup.' I was, for the 1,000th time in my life, in awe of him.

I remember, as a child, watching him in the backseat of his limo, with his portable blue Olivetti Lettera 32 propped on his knees, pounding out a deadline column. Between 1962 and 2008, he wrote some 5,600 of these. Assembled into book form, they would fill 45 volumes; add that to his more than 50 published books. This is, I reflect as the author of only 14 books, a humbling tally."
 
Mostly it appears to be an incredibly narcissistic tomb.  Read the piece here.