Take a look, it's in a book

I read a lot, but I think that has less to do with my powers of reflection (nonexistent) and desire for knowledge (spotty) than with the fact that it emerged in my youth as the best way to pass an otherwise useless period of time.  Someone seems to agree.


"An interesting book will keep you from chain smoking at bus stops, blacking your fingers with free newspapers or making an ass of yourself trying to start conversations with strangers in bars. It will keep you company during meals, make you unattainable to random panhandlers (who, for some reason respect the written word more than headphones) and almost invariably give someone of the opposite sex an excuse to talk to you."


The Bold Italic: Northern Exposure