Most readers, then and now, have at some time experienced the humiliation of being told that their occupation is reprehensible.

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.

But a reader's ambition knows no bounds.

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.

Not until I came to Canada did I realize that snow was a four-letter word.

My books hold between their covers every story I've ever known and still remember, or have now forgotten, or may one day read; they fill the space around me with ancient and new voices.

During the day, the library is a realm of order.