Evil Requires No Reason.

The Starting Point Is A Question.

A Library Is An Ever-growing Entity; It Multiples Seemingly Unaided, It Reproduces Itself By Purchase, Theft, Borrowings, Gifts, By Suggesting Gaps Through Association, By Demanding Completion Of Sorts.

Maybe This Is Why We Read, And Why In Moments Of Darkness We Return To Books: To Find Words For What We Already Know.

At Different Times And In Different Places I Have Come To Expect Certain Books To Look A Certain Way, And, As In All Fashions, These Changing Features Fix A Precise Quality Onto A Book's Definition. I Judge A Book By Its Cover; I Judge A Book By Its Shape.

The Shelves Of Books We Haven't Written, Like Those Of Books We Haven't Read, Stretches Out Into The Darkness Of The Universal Library's Farthest Space. We Are Always At The Beginning Of The Beginning Of The Letter A.