Sunday Quote

Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.

- Vincent van Gogh 

So know this - if you love your library, use your library.  Support libraries in your words and deeds.  If you are fortunate enough to be able to buy your own books, and you have your own computer with which to conduct research, and you're not in search of a story hour for your children, then don't forget about the members of your community who are like you but perhaps lack your resources - the ones who love to read, who long to learn, who need a place to go and sit and think.  Make sure that in your good fortune you remember to support their quest for a better life.  That's what a library promises us, after all: a better life.  And that's what libraries have delivered.

- Ann Patchett, in the afterward of the most terrific book, The Public Library by Robert Dawson. 

I could go on about Ann Patchett all day (if you haven't read her, do so, as in run out immediately and grab a book of hers.  By my bedside table is her collection This is the story of a Happy Marriage which I like to dip into.  Next to Nancy Willard and Mary Oliver and Anne Lamott offerings, but that is for another day.

The book containing her great afterward is extolling the many virtues of libraries (music to my librarian's ears and writer's heart) is a very well done and enjoyable book tracking the many across country treks Robert Dawson and also his son made to all different public libraries, exploring, taking photographs, talking to people, a real taking the pulse of the country book as well as a love poem to libraries.  Libraries are more than housing books but the heart of the community - I would not want to live in a town without a library because what would that say about the members of the community?  At any rate, while you are running out and getting anything Ann Patchett, make sure you get Dawson's book as well. 

You have a library card, right? (They are free!).

Sunday Quote

Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night.

- Virginia Woolf, Jacob's Room