I remember my parent's bookshelves when I began to read. They became fascinating, slightly ominous in all their mystery, all their thousands and thousands of pages I felt I could not hope to read in a lifetime. Now I have twice as many bookshelves in my own home, and I hope that in a few years my son feels that same fascination, that challenge to pass through some of the same doors his parents have, in order that he may depart through his own when ready...
Well said!
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