Fragments from the notebooks of a woman who worked in factories alongside laborers, who fled France during the Nazi occupation, who starved herself in solidarity with those suffering under occupation, and who died at thirty-four. Simone Weil writes about attention as prayer, about the void at the center of existence, about decreation and grace with a lucidity that feels almost unbearable. These are not arguments but illuminations. Posthumously assembled, the book has the quality of sacred text, each fragment a small detonation in the mind.