I make lists. Lists of books I will use for philosophy courses I will give myself. Lists of mathematics texts that will leave me well tutored in some of the finer points of the subject. Lists of novels I will read slowly to study the writing art contained in them. Each list compounds and creates another list.

My life has grown too short to read everything I want to read. I must list those books I have not read, yet worthy of my affection, and those deserving a rereading. I must have a map showing the trail through the thicket.

The smoke curls from the cigarette resting in the ashtray. My lists are smoke dissipating in a gentle almost imperceptible draft.

Published in: on March 13, 2008 at 4:09 pm  Leave a Comment  

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