There are no wrong books. What's wrong is the fear of them.
The short story packs a self in a few pages predicating a lifetime
Children were strangers you loved because you could love. If they gave back love when they were grown you were ahead of the game.
How can we be strangers if we both believe in God?
I sometimes confuse myself with the little I know.
Prufrock had measured out his life with measuring spoons; Dubin, in books resurrecting the lives of others.