The Work Of Memory Collapses Time.

We Collect Books In The Belief That We Are Preserving Them When In Fact It Is The Books That Preserve Their Collector.

Art Teaches Us To See Into Things. Folk Art And Kitsch Allow Us To See Outward From Within Things.

These Are Days When No One Should Rely Unduly On His Competence. Strength Lies In Improvisation. All The Decisive Blows Are Struck Left-handed.

Books, Too, Begin Like The Week – With A Day Of Rest In Memory Of Their Creation. The Preface Is Their Sunday.

Not To Find One's Way Around A City Does Not Mean Much. But To Lose One's Way In A City, As One Loses One's Way In A Forest, Requires Some Schooling. Street Names Must Speak To The Urban Wanderer Like The Snapping Of Dry Twigs, And Little Streets In The Heart Of The City Must Reflect The Times Of Day, For Him, As Clearly As A Mountain Valley. This Art I Acquired Rather Late In Life; It Fulfilled A Dream, Of Which The First Traces Were Labyrinths On The Blotting Papers In My School Notebooks.