A book is made from a tree. It is an assemblage of flat,
flexible parts (still called “leaves”) imprinted with dark
pigmented squiggles. One glance at it and you hear the
voice of another person, perhaps someone dead for
thousands of years. Across the millennia, the author is
speaking, clearly and silently, inside your head, directly
to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions,
binding together people, citizens of distant epochs, who
never knew one another. Books break the shackles of time,
proof that humans can work magic. — Carl Sagan
William Verpanck Birney
Guy Rose
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