During the months after my father's debilitating stroke, his second wife divorced him, his bank accounts were emptied, his furniture disappeared, the cat ran away and a trio of booksellers purchased his book collection. When my father eventually regained his senses, he telephoned me with what really bothered him: "Where the hell are my books?"

2 comentários:

Jack disse...

"A lifetime of written wisdom has gently settled like silt on some distant ocean bed, and somewhere within, the long conversation between man and books continues, though ever quieter. Love disappears, wealth disappears, desire disappears. But good books stay absorbed in the soul, and a soul, if educated, endures. Or at least that's what some pretty good books say"

De arrepiar.

Lucas Jerzy Portela disse...

Semeando Livros http://ultimobaile.com/?p=2591 Nossa intervenção urbana de #bookcrossing

seria legal um post seu sobre isso. Quer dizer: sobre gente que, ao contrário do velhinho da estória, liberta seus livros justamente por amá-los muito.