Every Library Is A Library Of Preferences,

Every Text Assumes A Reader.

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

Our Society Accepts The Book As A Given, But The Act Of Reading -- Once Considered Useful And Important, As Well As Potentially Dangerous And Subversive -- Is Now Condescendingly Accepted As A Pastime, A Slow Pastime That Lacks Efficiency And Does Not Contribute To The Common Good.

This Morning I Looked At The Books On My Shelves And Thought That They Have No Knowledge Of My Existence. They Come To Life Because I Open Them And Turn Their Pages, And Yet They Don't Know That I Am Their Reader.

If The Book Is Second-hand, I Leave All Its Markings Intact, The Spoor Of Previous Readers, Fellow-travellers Who Have Recorded Their Passage By Means Of Scribbled Comments, A Name On The Fly-leaf, A Bus Ticket To Mark A Certain Page.