Reading Chekhov, I felt not happy, exactly, but as close to happiness as I knew I was likely to come. And it occurred to me that this was the pleasure and mystery of reading, as well as the answer to those who say that books will disappear. For now, books are still the best way of taking great art and its consolations along with us on a bus.
Francine Prose, Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them
books, chekhov, literature, reading