I wasn't satisfied with the definition of a word in Merriam-Webster online, so I went to check the rather old, rather large dictionary sitting on the bookshelf in the other room. Apparently all it was doing in there was... collecting dust. It is two large volumes, and I had a few small old books on top. I got side-tracked moving the books and wiping the dust off. One of the books, a tiny thing, caught my attention. Small, leather bound with Celtic symbols embossed on the cover with the words "Friendship of Books". I remember buying the book at an Antique shop, but I guess I had forgotten that I had it. The funny thing about this is that not too long ago, someone said to me "... books are like friends you can visit any time you want." And, the other day, prompted by a blog on which I wanted to make an extended comment, but didn't, I started off writing something about books. "Books... I love books. Old books. The kind of books that have depth, weight, heft. The kind of book that you can hit someone on the head with. The ones that teach you something, not tell you something. But, above the book, I place my brain, my ability to think for myself first." I went on to write a bit more about common sense, understanding and wisdom, but again, lacking sufficient brainpower in the past little while, I could not finish the thought. Anyways, when I opened that wee book mentioned above, there was this inscription.
Who were Gertie and George? What was their relationship? He gave her this particular book near the beginning of the war and quoted Milton. Did he get shipped off? Hmmm... so many things to wonder.
So, perhaps I should revise my prior thought about books "... that teach you something, not tell you something." ... to include "and that make you think beyond the words."