When a person spends all his time in foreign travel, he ends by having many acquaintances, but no friends. And the same thing must hold true of men who seek intimate acquaintance with no single author, but visit them all in a hasty and hurried manner.
Food does no good and is not assimilated into the body if it leaves the stomach as soon as it is eaten; nothing hinders a cure so much as frequent change of medicine; no wound will heal when one salve is tried after another; a plant which is often moved can never grow strong. There is nothing so efficacious that it can be helpful while it is being shifted about. And in reading of many books is distraction.
Accordingly, since you cannot read all the books which you may possess, it is enough to possess only as many books as you can read.
It is commonly said among bibliophiles that one can never have too many books, only not enough shelf space, or any number of variations on the theme.
I am deeply sympathetic, since the joy of reading has often saved me from the grind of living, and yet I also understand how spreading myself too thin will make me a jack of all trades and the master of none.
It isn’t really about the books themselves, of course, but about what I will choose to do with the books, if I will actually go about making something better of myself through them. The intention will decide whether the printed word becomes a remedy or a vanity.
I have often felt jealous of people who move in wide circles, and I have wondered how satisfying it must be for them be loved by so many. If I look more closely, however, I notice that most of them know a little bit about everyone, and nothing of substance about anyone. Their relationships will largely hover over the surface, and will not establish any deeper roots.
Skimming over a book, or reading just pieces of it here and there, will never inspire my soul, just as dealing with others on the level of shallow appearances will never bring me the comforts of true friendship. If I refuse to sit still for a time, I will miss the peace of being at home.
There is a practical limit to how much a mind can soundly comprehend, just as there is a limit to how much a stomach can healthily digest; I will only make myself sick, in soul or in body, if I bite off more than I can chew. Quantity is never a replacement for quality.
Even though I spend many hours of every day with my nose in a book, I still find that I own far more books than I can ever grow with in genuine intimacy. It is much the same with my collection of records and films, where sounds and images just become cheaper when I pile them up in the corner of the room.
If I know I will not likely have the time to return to them with care, it is better for me to pass them on to someone who does. At least I am then doing a little something to improve both my own character and that of another.
Written in 2/2012
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