Books Say: She Did This Because. Life

When You're Young - When I Was Young - You Want Your Emotions To Be Like The Ones You Read About In Books. You Want Them To Overturn Your Life, Create And Define A New Reality. Later, I Think, You Want Them To Do Something Milder, Something More Practical: You Want Them To Support Your Life As It Is And Has Become. You Want Them To Tell You That Things Are Ok. And Is There Anything Wrong With That?

Life Isn't Just Addition And Subtraction. There's Also The Accumulation, The Multiplication, Of Loss, Of Failure.

Reading And Life Are Not Separate But Symbiotic. And For This Serious Task Of Imaginative Discovery And Self-discovery, There Is And Remains One Perfect Symbol: The Printed Book.

Do Not Imagine That Art Is Something Which Is Designed To Give Gentle Uplift And Self-confidence . Art Is Not A Brassiere. At Least, Not In The English Sense. But Do Not Forget That Brassiere Is The French Word For Life-jacket.

Early In Life, The World Divides Crudely Into Those Who Have Had Sex And Those Who Haven't. Later, Into Those Who Have Known Love, And Those Who Haven't. Later Still - At Least, If We Are Lucky (or, On The Other Hand, Unlucky) - It Divides Into Those Who Have Endured Grief, And Those Who Haven't. These Divisions Are Absolute; They Are Tropics We Cross.