I Wanted To Live Among Books.

We Read To Understand, Or To Begin To Understand. We Cannot Do But To Read. Reading Almost As Much As Breathing, Is Our Essential Function.

I Know My Time Will Come Soon Enough, But I Will Not Dwell On It. What Is The Purpose? We Might As Well Dwell On The Work Of Our Teeth Or On The Mechanics Of Our Walk. It Is There, It Will Always Be There, And I Don't Intend To Spend My Glorious Hours Looking Over My Shoulder To See Death's Icy Face.

I Can Understand That There Are Those Who Can Think And Imagine The World Without Words, But I Think That Once You Find The Words That Name Your Experience, Then Suddenly That Experience Becomes Grounded, And You Can Use It And You Can Try To Understand It.

From Fire, Water, The Passage Of Time, Neglectful Readers, And The Hand Of The Censor, Each Of My Books Has Escaped To Tell Me Its Story.

The Telling Of Stories Creates The Real World.