There's an article in the LA Times from a few days ago about how the quicker pace of life makes making time out for reading more difficult to find. It's well worth reading in its entirety, but this part I particularly liked:
Reading is an act of contemplation, perhaps the only act in which we allow ourselves to merge with the consciousness of another human being. We possess the books we read, animating the waiting stillness of their language, but they possess us also, filling us with thoughts and observations, asking us to make them part of ourselves.
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