opening the book, i inhaled. the smell of old books, so sharp, so dry you can taste it.

I still believe in stories. I still forget myself when I am in the middle of a good book. Books are for me, it must be said, the most important thing.

My genius is not so frail a thing that it cowers from the dirty fingers of newspapernen.

Still in my coat and hat, I sank onto the stair to read the letter. (I never read without making sure I am in a secure position. I have been like this ever since the age of seven when, sitting on a high wall and reading The Water Babies, I was so seduced by the descriptions of underwater life that I unconsciously relaxed my muscles. Instead of being held buoyant by the water that so vividly surrounded me in my mind, I plummeted to the ground and knocked myself out. I can still feel the scar under my fringe now. Reading can be dangerous.)

As for you, you are alive. But it's not the same as living.

Of course I loved books more than people.

People whose lives are not balanced by a healthy love of money suffer from an appalling obsession with personal integrity.