There is beauty in the crumbling pages of old books. Their lifetimes shown by the rough look of their covers, loose spines, and folded corners. But the beauty of old books is the words. The perennial words alluringly and delicately placed upon the bygone pages, even so that they seem to lift up off of the pages, fall, and immerse down upon your longing soul, taking shelter in the clandestine places that long to breathe in the words and never stop . -Anonymous.