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This book is a good friend of mine.
Something about the tone of its author's voice makes me feel very warm and at ease, and this in spite of the centuries that separate us. It is the voice of a learned, yet modest man who ever so casually offers to the patient reader pearl upon pearl of wisdom.
Here is the kind of friend I need, a lifer. I can leave the Essays on the shelf for years and years and read all kinds of other books and forget all about Montaigne and his quaint old French and his musty old doublets, but each time I go back to him we pick up the conversation right where we left off. Sure, I have changed and the world around me has changed and even my understanding of these Essays has changed. But once you are inside this book you realise that time has stopped. Are we in 1572? Are we in 2016? Does this even matter when we are dealing with the timelessness of the human mind?
Reading an hour or so, I come away feeling happier to be alive, conforted in the thought of being older, looking at the world with newer eyes.