I have a collection of thousands of books. My house is full of packed bookcases. I like to be surrounded by my books. It is not just that I enjoy reading. Those books are like old friends. They are a comfort. I often look at them and remember the stories, worlds, feelings and information they have shared with me.
Some of my books I read decades ago. I still love them. They all enriched my life and I am grateful to them. I am grateful to the wonderful authors who spent so many thousands of hours creating them for me. They shared what it is to be human. They enthralled me.
There is nothing better than reading – nothing (well possibly writing – oh – and love). It has been the most rewarding aspect of my life (apart from love and writing). I have visited other universes, other lives and shared love, hate and the full gamut of ideas, ways of thinking and emotions.
Reading transports you to anywhere. Human imagination is unlimited.
My school had a motto taken from Pliny which said that books were nourishment for the mind. I think that is true. They’ve certainly enriched my life.
I look around at my books and am filled with satisfaction.