When Do You Learn That

Every Time You Enter A Library You Might Say To Yourself, "the World Is Quiet Here," As A Sort Of Pledge Proclaiming Reading To Be The Greater Good.

Wishing, Like Sipping A Glass Of Punch, Or Pulling Aside A Bearskin Rug In Order To Access A Hidden Trapdoor In The Floor, Is Merely A Quiet Way To Spend One's Time Before The Candles Are Extinguished On One's Birthday Cake.

The Sad Truth Is The Truth Is Sad.

If You Feel . . . That Well-read People Are Less Likely To Be Evil, And A World Full Of People Sitting Quietly With Good Books In Their Hands Is Preferable To World Filled With Schisms And Sirens And Other Noisy And Troublesome Things, Then Every Time You Enter A Library You Might Say To Yourself, 'the World Is Quiet Here,' As A Sort Of Pledge Proclaiming Reading To Be The Greater Good.

When You Need A Haircut, It Looks Like You Have No One To Take Care Of You.