“[T]he power of art—and many books are, still, art, not entertainment—lies in the way it turns us inward and outward, all at once. The communion we seek, scanning titles or turning pages, is not with others—not even the others, living or long dead, who wrote the words we read—but with ourselves. Our finest capacities, too easily forgotten.”
More from Mairead Small Staid
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“We call this endless, immaterial material a feed, though there’s little sustenance to be…”