We're all busy. Meditating monks in their cells are busy. That's adult life, filled to the ceiling with things that need doing. {It seems only children and the elderly aren't plagued by lack of time-and notice how they enjoy their books, how their lives fill their eyes.} But every person has a space next to where they sleep, whether a patch of pavement or a fine bedside table. In that space, at night, a book can glow. And in those moments of docile wakefulness, when we begin to let go of the day, then is the perfect time to pick up a book and be someone else, somewhere else, for a few minutes, a few pages, before we fall asleep.
( Yann Martel )
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