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“Within minutes, melancholy engulfed him, as was usually the case in bookstores. Books everywhere, screaming for attention from the large presentation tables, shamelessly exposing their purple or iridescent green covers, piled up on the floor and patiently waiting to be put on the shelf, pouring out of the tables, sprinkled on the floor. Near the back wall of the store, huge piles of missed books were waiting with a sullen air to return to their forger. Next to them stood cardboard boxes still unopened, filled with young and brilliant volumes that burned with impatience to live their moment of glory. Ernest's heart trembled the moment he thought about his new baby. What chance did a frail soul have, in this sea of books, to swim and hold on to the surface?”
― Irvin Yalom, Lying on the Couch