Books are living things and their task lies in their vows of silence. You touch them as they quiver with a divine pleasure. You read them and they fall asleep to happy dreams for the next 10 years. If you do them the favor of understanding them, of taking in their portions of grief and wisdom, then they settle down in contented residence in your heart.
... silence (can) be the most eloquent form of lying.
I was trying to unravel the complicated trigonometry of the radical thought that silence could make up the greatest lie ever told.
