Deserted libraries hold the shades of writers who worked within, and are haunted by their absence.
It hardly matters why a library is destroyed: every banning, curtailment, shredding, plunder or loot gives rise (at least as a ghostly presence) to a louder, clearer, more durable library of the banned, looted, plundered, shredded or curtailed.
During the day, the library is a realm of order.
Not until I came to Canada did I realize that snow was a four-letter word.
The love of libraries, like most loves, must be learned.
We are losing our common vocabulary, built over thousands of years to help and delight and instruct us, for the sake of what we take to be the new technology's virtues.