Entering a library, I am always stuck by the way in which a certain vision of the world is imposed upon the reader through its categories and its order.

Our books will bear witness for or against us, our books reflect who we are and who we have been, our books hold the share of pages granted to us from the Book of Life. By the books we call ours we will be judged

I don't remember ever feeling lonely; in fact, on the rare occasions when I met other children I found their games and their talk far less interesting than the adventures and dialogues I read in my books.

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

The love of libraries, like most loves, must be learned.

At night, here in the library, the ghosts have voices.... The various qualities of my readings seem to permeate my every muscle, so that when I finally decide to turn off the library light, I carry into my sleep the voices and the movements of the book I've just closed.

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.