It Hardly Matters Why A Library Is

We Are Losing Our Common Vocabulary, Built Over Thousands Of Years To Help And Delight And Instruct Us, For The Sake Of What We Take To Be The New Technology's Virtues.

I Know That Something Dies When I Give Up My Books, And That My Memory Keeps Going Back To Them With Mournful Nostalgia.

We Seem To Live A Culture That Doesn't Want Blemishes. The Vision Of Most Beautiful Models... Airbrushed In Order To Be Seen As Perfect, Infects Our Notion Of How Literature Should Be Written.

The World Encyclopedia, The Universal Library, Exists, And It Is The World Itself.

We Can Roam The Bloated Stacks Of The Library Of Alexandria, Where All Imagination And Knowledge Are Assembled; We Can Recognize In Its Destruction The Warning That All We Gather Will Be Lost, But Also That Much Of It Can Be Collected Again; We Can Learn From Its Splendid Ambition That What Was One Man's Experience Can Become, Through The Alchemy Of Words, The Experience Of All, And How That Experience, Distilled Once Again Into Words, Can Serve Each Singular Reader For Some Secret, Singular Purpose.