Maybe books are like clothes. If I haven't read them in five years, I'll consider selling them. I've never sold a book.

Where are those days that could pass unnoticed as I reveled in ideas, character, plot, technique, and sentiment? Where is that iron, unyielding discipline of the dedicated reader? Yes, even the most passionate reader has a discipline -- a capability of concentrating so wholly on the moment that the material being read becomes a part of the soul. Today, my mind plays with the ideas and fantasies my younger self absorbed.

I am become dilettante, slider through life, not really knowing whereof and wherefore.