To divert myself from a troublesome fancy, it is but to run to my books; they presently fix me to them, and drive the other out of my thoughts, and do not mutiny to see that I have only recourse to them for want of other more, real, natural, and lively conveniences; they always receive me with the same kindness.
Michel de Montaigne (1866). “Works of Michael de Montaigne: Comprising His Essays, Journey Into Italy, and Letters”, p.93
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