A Library Is That Venerable Place Where

It Is Strange What A Contempt Men Have For The Joys That Are Offered Them Freely.

Suffering Has Roused Them From The Sleep Of Gentle Life, And Every Day Fills Them With A Terrible Intoxication. They Are Now Something More Than Themselves; Those We Loved Were Merely Happy Shadows.

To Drink Is A Small Matter. To Be Thirsty Is Everything.

We Do Not Know The True Value Of Our Moments Until They Have Undergone The Test Of Memory. Like The Images The Photographer Plunges Into A Golden Bath, Our Sentiments Take On Color; And Only Then, After That Recoil And That Trans-figuration, Do We Understand Their Real Meaning And Enjoy Them In All Their Tranquil Splendor.

In The Beds Which The Piety Of The Public Has Prepared On Every Side, Stricken Men Await The Verdict Of Fate.