I Wanted To Live Among Books.

Not Until I Came To Canada Did I Realize That Snow Was A Four-letter Word.

I Like To Imagine That, On The Day After My Last, My Library And I Will Crumble Together, So That Even When I Am No More I'll Still Be With My Books.

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.

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.

Reading Is The Occupation Of The Insomniac Par Excellence.