“That I have but to think of it, to have this dear companion on my lips and on my heart.” Similar in language to Ruskin, the book, to me, is the most esteemed of these most esteemedfriends. As no one else ever could, it understands me. Infinitely more than the platitude “People of the same way of thinking always know best what is the best reading” expresses, I am linked to my books as I am with none other. I look to my familiar friends and relations them. This small band of certain titles will never ebb, always to be consulted. So profoundly here is one privy to the soul. Their knowledge of me is secure, in that there is continual recourse to wear to pages as way to the print worn. Indeed, the more tattered it becomes the more apparitions of the feeling becomes it seems a grave slight if the sadness of the preface of a tome is not commensurate to the melancholy it emits within. Without, when the eyes fall on a branded name they invoke a untouched sorrow. On front the crinkle of a fine copy worries, which as much been handled by vexation as by express volition, and the print smudges the final remonstration on ownership. Every volume cherished, while it is enfolded only with the touch which holds to antiquity. It is as if the appearance initiates the attachment, exercises a clam to read what is beneath that is so often unheeded. A duplicate dreaded. An admirable picture of the intellectual world one frequents is on its stand nearby. Wanted is it to be treasured, as if it would fall out of mind without the visualization, and then inform what is bespoke. Some one has said that the only buildings in tall form which are given in literature occur in Utopian writings. There must be more here than I have ever thought, for I need the aid of my illustration texts if only the name commences to receive things more than ephemeral. So there is in my domain at all times a scene of learned world distant but somehow present as real when the familiar place is view as the map of unexpected city. In my full admittance of the word’s potential it is nevertheless deemed entirely magnificent that they assure a glance at the Lambeth conference as painted by Green and that twins of Wordsworth generally construct in one head the same notion of the lake country, but so it is becoming to be. The most vividly dreamed, the half-known would furnish an astonishingly deficient fabricated installation. Yet as is true whenever memory falls into sudden disfavor, I can now remember to moorings nothing of what fix my attention in this way yesterday. A sparing declare, that in rereading is often foregone in favor of the pur blind destiny of passage to be newly substantiated—the revelation of the quick-eyed learner toward diagram and labeled thing, who travels from marker pen to marker pen without authentic register. From this instant it is promised to be otherwise, and to record, that it may be refound further, the first experience of Bacon-by-Trivial stanzas accessed maturity.
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