𝔎𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔲𝔭 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔰𝔬 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔫. 𝔚𝔥𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔫'𝔱 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢?










"From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood. There was poetry for quiet companionship. There was adventure when she tired of quiet hours. There would be love stories when she came into adolescence and when she wanted to feel a closeness to someone she could read a biography. On that day when she first knew she could read, she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived."