All of us deserve a sanctuary in life, more than one if we’re lucky.

I find sanctuary on the page, a place to come to, go to, a place that as long as I am breathing is always there. It is a place where I can read the words of others and a place where words from my pen can spill out and try to find their way. My words may not dazzle or be of any particular value to anyone but me, but they are mine, and, over the years, we have become good friends.

Words are living things, individuals all. They have expression and scent and color and tone; they come in all different shapes and sizes.  They are, for me, great company. I  don’t know how I could go through life or if I’d even want to go through life without books.

I could no more survive the absence of books than I could the absence of air.