If The Soul Cannot Find

Reading Aloud Means No Skipping, No Skimming, No Cutting To The Chase.

My Brother And I Were Able To Fantasize Far More Extravagantly About Our Parents' Tastes And Desires, Their Aspirations And Their Vices, By Scanning Their Bookcases Than By Snooping In Their Closest. Their Selves Were On Their Shelves.

I, On The Other Hand, Believe That Books, Maps, Scissors, And Scotch Tape Dispensers Are All Unreliable Vagrants, Likely To Take Off For Parts Unknown Unless Strictly Confined To Quarters.

A Philosophy Professor At My College, Whose Baby Became Enamored Of The Portrait Of David Hume On A Penguin Paperback, Had The Cover Laminated In Plastic So Her Daughter Could Cut Her Teeth On The Great Thinker.

Pen-bereavement Is A Serious Matter.