As I walk’d by my self
And talk’d to my self,
My self said unto me,
Look to thy self,
Take care of thy self,
For nobody cares for thee.
I answer’d my self,
And said to my self,
In the self-same repartee,
Look to thy self
Or not look to thy self,
The self-same thing will be.
“The books that you really love give the sense, when you first open them, of having been there. It is a creation, almost like a chamber in the memory. Places that one has never been to, things that one has never seen or heard, but their fitness is so sound that you’ve been there somehow.”
John Cheever