L’architecture Est Art De Suggestion.

I Master My Doubts Now. I Have Fun With Them, They're My Travelling Companions.

We Keep Quiet About What We Read. Our Enjoyment Of A Book Remains A Jealously Guarded Secret. Perhaps Because There`s No Need To Talk, Or Because It Takes Time To Distill What We've Read Before We Can Say Anything. Silence Is Our Guarantee Of Intimacy. We Might Have Finished Reading But We`re Still Living The Book.

The Teacher Is Commodified, The School Is A Shop, The Subjects Are Consumer Goods. To Read, To Think, To Reflect, Isn't A Question Of Want, It's A Question Of Need.

Once A Book Falls Into Our Possession, It Is Ours, The Same Way Children Lay Their Claim: 'that's My Book.' As If It Were Organically Part Of Them. That Must Be Why We Have So Much Trouble Returning Borrowed Books. It's Not Exactly Theft (of Course Not, We're Not Thieves, What Are You Implying?); It's Simply A Slippage In Ownership Or, Better Still, A Transfer Of Substance. That Which Belonged To Someone Else Becomes Mine When I Look At It. And If I Like What I Read, Naturally I'll Have Difficulty Giving It Back.

Time Spent Reading, Like Time Spent Loving, Increases Our Lifetime.