Nothing Good Ever Comes Without A Price.

Writing Is A Form Of Herding. I Herd Words Into Little Paragraph-like Clusters.

The Lives Of Happy People Are Dense With Their Own Doings -- Crowded, Active, Thick. But The Sorrowing Are Nomads, On A Plain With Few Landmarks And No Boundaries; Sorrow's Horizons Are Vague And Its Demands Are Few.

Occasionally The Very Youngness Of The Young Moved Him To Charity--they Had No Sense Of The Swiftness Of Life, Nor Of Its Limits. The Years Would Pass Like Weeks, And Loves Would Pass Too, Or Else Grow Sour.

The Tradition I Was Born Into Was Essentially Nomadic, A Herdsmen Tradition, Following Animals Across The Earth. The Bookshops Are A Form Of Ranching; Instead Of Herding Cattle, I Herd Books. Writing Is A Form Of Herding, Too; I Herd Words Into Little Paragraph-like Clusters.

Most Young Dealers Of The Silicon Chip Era Regard A Reference Library As Merely A Waste Of Space. Old Timers On The West Coast Seem To Retain A Fondness For Reference Books That Goes Beyond The Practical. Everything There Is To Know About A Given Volume May Be Only A Click Away, But There Are Still A Few Of Us Who'd Rather Have The Book Than The Click. A Bookman's Love Of Books Is A Love Of Books, Not Merely Of The Information In Them.