But At Night, When The Library Lamps

It Used To Be That Readers Were Relegated Because They Considered Themselves Far Above Society, And So The Metaphor Of The Ivory Tower Developed. Now There's Still This Idea That The Reader Doesn't Take Part In The Social Game And In Politics, The Res Publica, But For Other Reasons: He Doesn't Do It Because He's Not Making Any Money.

Unpacking Books Is A Revelatory Activity.

Entering A Library, I Am Always Stuck By The Way In Which A Certain Vision Of The World Is Imposed Upon The Reader Through Its Categories And Its Order.

In The Dark, With The Windows Lit And The Rows Of Books Glittering, The Library Is A Closed Space, A Universe Of Self-serving Rules That Pretend To Replace Or Translate Those Of The Shapeless Universe Beyond.

My Books Hold Between Their Covers Every Story I've Ever Known And Still Remember, Or Have Now Forgotten, Or May One Day Read; They Fill The Space Around Me With Ancient And New Voices.