Life Happened Because I Turned The Pages.

At Night, Here In The Library, The Ghosts Have Voices.... The Various Qualities Of My Readings Seem To Permeate My Every Muscle, So That When I Finally Decide To Turn Off The Library Light, I Carry Into My Sleep The Voices And The Movements Of The Book I've Just Closed.

I've Never Really Understood Attachment To A Place For Reasons Of Birth. That My Mother Happened To Give Birth To Me In A Certain Place Doesn't, To My Mind, Justify Any Thankfulness Towards That Place. It Could Have Been Anywhere.

Reality Deals In Specifics Under The Guise Of Generalities. Literature Does The Contrary.

To Say That An Author Is A Reader Or A Reader An Author, To See A Book As A Human Being Or A Human Being A Book, To Describe The World As Text Or A Text As The World, Are Ways Of Naming The Readers Craft.

We Can Imagine The Books We'd Like To Read, Even If They Have Not Yet Been Written, And We Can Imagine Libraries Full Of Books We Would Like To Possess, Even If They Are Well Beyond Our Reacher, Because We Enjoy Dreaming Up A Library That Reflects Every One Of Our Interests And Every One Of Our Foibles--a Library That, In Its Variety And Complexity, Fully Reflects The Reader We Are.