[N]o day has passed in which I have not read. The very act is my grateful prayer of the predawn hours, and many other hours besides. Reading is my rhythm, my companion, my faithful, illuminating guide. Through it, inches become miles, hours days, days years, years lifetimes.
These sentences from a brief but moving introduction to William Michaelian‘s annual list of books he’s read in the current year. He has been happily wandering through the 19th century, and not a few of the books he lists are ones I’ve had on my “read someday” list. William’s example has bumped a few to my “read soon” list, which is really what all such lists are for. Thanks, William!