In A Library, No Empty Shelf Remains

I Don't Remember Ever Feeling Lonely; In Fact, On The Rare Occasions When I Met Other Children I Found Their Games And Their Talk Far Less Interesting Than The Adventures And Dialogues I Read In My Books.

The Telling Of Stories Creates The Real World.

In The Dark, With The Windows Lit And The Rows Of Books Glittering, The Library Is A Closed Space, A Universe Of Self-serving Rules That Pretend To Replace Or Translate Those Of The Shapeless Universe Beyond.

If Justice Takes Place, There May Be Hope, Even In The Face Of A Seemingly Capricious Divinity.

If The Library In The Morning Suggests An Echo Of The Severe And Reasonable Wishful Order Of The World, The Library At Night Seems To Rejoice In The World's Essential, Joyful Muddle.