I hope you enjoy the following post by Rob Stroud of Mere Inkling.
When I think of my own childhood and the BOOKS received as Christmas or birthday presents… I remember them in detail.
Even this Christmas, although our family has agreed to not purchase gifts, in a modest attempt at a more meaningful holiday experience, that does not (“could not, would not”) include the twenty plus books that will be under the tree… They are not extras, they are essential.
Happy holidays! And happy reading!© Una-Melina // Worthy Books & Things, 2012.
What a blessing it is to live in an age when even the most modest home can treasure its personal library. Public libraries are a community boon, but because of the printing press, books are no longer restricted to the homes of the wealthy.
Books—or, more properly the reading of books—has a direct correlation to human intelligence, knowledge and (occasionally) even to wisdom itself.
In 1905, at the age of seven, C.S. Lewis moved with his family into a large home in the countryside. It was so spacious, in fact that in his autobiography Surprised by Joy, Lewis says, “to a child it seemed less like a house than a city.”
Lewis proceeds to describe the “mansion,” and its most notable feature . . . the profusion of books.
The New House is almost a major character in my story. I am a product of long corridors, empty sunlit…
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