I always knew that I wanted to live with books, even as a child, because we traveled a lot. Home was the book to which I came back every evening.

The shelves of books we haven't written, like those of books we haven't read, stretches out into the darkness of the universal library's farthest space. We are always at the beginning of the beginning of the letter A.

In the dark, with the windows lit and the rows of books glittering, the library is a closed space, a universe of self-serving rules that pretend to replace or translate those of the shapeless universe beyond.

In the light, we read the inventions of others; in the darkness we invent our own stories.

One book calls to another unexpectedly, creating alliances across different cultures and centuries.

I always knew that I wanted to live with books, even as a child, because we traveled a lot. Home was the book to which I came back every evening.

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