It was not in me It came and wentI wanted to hold it It was held by wine(I no longer know what it was)
In the room...they are inside the books. They move sometimes within the pages, like sleepers turning over between two dreams.
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In the room...they are inside the books. They move sometimes within the pages, like sleepers turning over between two dreams.
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But suppose the endlessly dead were to wake in us some emblem:they might point to the catkins hangingfrom the empty hazel trees, or direct us to the raindescending on black earth in early spring. ---And we, who always think of happinessrising, would feel the emotionthat almost baffles uswhen a happy thing falls.
It__ remarkable that a device, which fits in your pocket, can hold thousands of books. But a room full of books is an entirely different kind of remarkable.
If you're frightened of the countless number of books in the library, you'll never write anything, until you close your eyes and hold the pen.
Of all the ways of acquiring books, writing them oneself is regarded as the most praiseworthy method._ Walter Benjamin, "Unpacking My Library
Deserted libraries hold the shades of writers who worked within, and are haunted by their absence.