You know how much I love libraries. I ran across this in my book du jour: "But I hate libraries like I hate zoos. Books are defaced, marked, sorted, and trapped on their shelves, prisoners forever. Books need to owned, cherished, and then given away as gifts. Not ensnared in indentured servitude until they fall apart." Eight of Swords by David Skibbins
I suppose. However I look upon books in the library as well loved, used, awaiting their time in a patron's hands like a child's toy waits on the shelf for it's turned to be loved into nothingness, much like the Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams. "It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."