Readers, Censors Know, Are Defined

Each Book Was A World Unto Itself, And In It I Took Refuge.

Reading Is The Occupation Of The Insomniac Par Excellence.

Ultimately, The Number Of Books Always Exceeds The Space They Are Granted.

At Night, Here In The Library, The Ghosts Have Voices.... The Various Qualities Of My Readings Seem To Permeate My Every Muscle, So That When I Finally Decide To Turn Off The Library Light, I Carry Into My Sleep The Voices And The Movements Of The Book I've Just Closed.

Reading In Bed Is A Self-centered Act, Immobile, Free From Ordinary Social Conventions, Invisible To The World, And One That, Because It Takes Place Between The Sheets, In The Realm Of Lust And Sinful Idleness, Has Something Of The Thrill Of Things Forbidden.