Not Until I Came To Canada Did

Reading Is The Occupation Of The Insomniac Par Excellence.

I Had A Library Of Maybe 1,000 Books In My Room In Buenos Aires. I Did Have The Sense That Everything There Was Organised In The Right Way. You'll Probably Think I Needed Serious Psychiatric Treatment, But There Were Times When I Would Not Buy A Book Because I Knew It Wouldn't Fit One Of The Categories Into Which I Had Divided The Library.

Libraries, Whether My Own Or Shared With A Greater Reading Public, Have Always Seemed To Me Pleasantly Mad Places, And For As Long As I Can Remember I've Been Seduced By Their Labyrinthine Logic, Which Suggests That Reason (if Not Art) Rules Over A Cacophonous Arrangement Of Books.

In Any Of My Pages In Any Of My Books May Life A Perfect Account Of My Secret Experience Of The World.

I Have No Feelings Of Guilt Regarding The Books I Have Not Read And Perhaps Will Never Read; I Know That My Books Have Unlimited Patience. They Will Wait For Me Till The End Of My Days.