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He wrote the algorithms that made Renaissance Technologies billions. They pushed him out of the most successful hedge fund in history, and in 25 years not one colleague ever called. His team feared him. Called him a monster. > He threw monitors over his own mistakes. > He made...

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They called him a traitor to his class. Born into one of the wealthiest families in England. He turned against the system that made him rich. His wallpaper is probably in your house right now. His name was William Morris. Born 1834. He looked at what factories were doing to Britain. Cheap goods. Ugly homes. Exhausted workers. And he said: this is wrong. So he carved printing blocks from pear wood by hand. Mixed natural dyes from plants. Printed wallpaper one sheet at a time. Strawberry Thief. Willow. Acanthus. Still sold today. Over 160 years later. But there was a problem he couldn't solve. Handmade things cost more than factory things. The workers he made them for couldn't afford them. Only the rich could buy what he built for the poor. He knew it. It tortured him. So he went further. He chose to fight for working people. Gave over a thousand speeches in seven years. Published penny pamphlets so workers could afford his ideas. His own class called him a traitor. They considered making him poet laureate. Then decided he was too dangerous. In 1885 police charged a workers' rally in East London. Morris was in the crowd. They arrested him. He went straight back to the streets. He said something that still holds true: "Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful." He died in 1896. His doctor had one explanation: he had done more work than most ten men. They carried his coffin on a cart with wildflowers. Unpolished oak. No gold. No marble. Just honest wood. You probably have one of his designs in your home right now. But they never told you who made it. Or that he was arrested for what he believed. His designs are in millions of homes. His story should be too: Be part of us. Be Proud Of Us 🇬🇧

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This painting shows the most heartbreaking reunion in all of literature. To understand it, you have to know who the dog is... His name is Argos, and he belongs to Ulysses, the Greek hero also known as Odysseus. Before Ulysses sailed away to fight in the Trojan War, he had raised Argos from a puppy, a fast and beautiful hunting dog. Then the war called, and Ulysses left. He would not come home for twenty years. When Ulysses finally set foot on his own island again, he came in disguise, dressed as a beggar, so that no one would know him. His house was full of men trying to steal his wife and his kingdom. To survive, he had to remain a stranger in his own home. No one recognized him. Not his loyal servants. Not the people who had known him all his life. But lying in the dirt by the gate, old and forgotten, covered in ticks, too weak to stand, was a dog. Argos had waited twenty years. And the moment he saw him, he knew. He was the only one. Nearly blind, half dead, he lifted his head and pricked up his ears, and he wagged his tail for the master he had never stopped waiting for. Ulysses saw him. And because he was in disguise, surrounded by enemies, he could not run to him, could not kneel down, could not say his name. He could only look at his old friend and, turning his face away so no one would see, let a single tear fall. And then, in Homer's own words, "the dark shadow of death closed down on Argos' eyes, the instant he had seen Odysseus, twenty years away." He had held on to life for one reason only: he was waiting to see him come home. And the moment he did, he could finally let go... It is such a beautiful painting, and the look on that dog's face is so universal, so instantly understood by anyone who has ever loved and waited, that it is enough to bring a grown man to tears.

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