If The Library Of Alexandria Was The

Reading Is The Occupation Of The Insomniac Par Excellence.

Old Or New, The Only Sign I Always Try To Rid My Books Of (usually With Little Success) Is The Price-sticker That Malignant Booksellers Attach To The Backs. These Evil White Scabs Rip Off With Difficulty, Leaving Leprous Wounds And Traces Of Slime To Which Adhere The Dust And Fluff Of Ages, Making Me Wish For A Special Gummy Hell To Which The Inventor Of These Stickers Would Be Condemned.

A Society Can Exist - Many Do Exist - Without Writing, But No Society Can Exist Without Reading.

Old Books That We Have Known But Not Possessed Cross Our Path And Invite Themselves Over. New Books Try To Seduce Us Daily With Tempting Titles And Tantalizing Covers.

Most Readers, Then And Now, Have At Some Time Experienced The Humiliation Of Being Told That Their Occupation Is Reprehensible.