The Starting Point Is A Question.

In Every Literate Society, Learning To Read Is Something Of An Initiation, A Ritualized Passage Out Of A State Of Dependency And Rudimentary Communication.

Old Or New, The Only Sign I Always Try To Rid My Books Of (usually With Little Success) Is The Price-sticker That Malignant Booksellers Attach To The Backs. These Evil White Scabs Rip Off With Difficulty, Leaving Leprous Wounds And Traces Of Slime To Which Adhere The Dust And Fluff Of Ages, Making Me Wish For A Special Gummy Hell To Which The Inventor Of These Stickers Would Be Condemned.

Darkness Promotes Speech.

Readers, Censors Know, Are Defined By The Books They Read.

In The Light, We Read The Inventions Of Others; In The Darkness We Invent Our Own Stories.