Every reader has found charms by which to secure possession of a page that, by magic, becomes as if never read before, fresh and immaculate.

Each book was a world unto itself, and in it I took refuge.

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.

But at night, when the library lamps are lit, the outside world disappears and nothing but the space of books remains in existence.

A library is an ever-growing entity; it multiples seemingly unaided, it reproduces itself by purchase, theft, borrowings, gifts, by suggesting gaps through association, by demanding completion of sorts.

I wanted to live among books.

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.