"Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home."
- Anna Quindlen
Dear "Miss Lonelyhearts",
It's not you, it's me. I'm exhausted and burnt out and trying to get ten million things done before Crasmas. I have so little time to read these days and just couldn't devote attention to you and I'm sure beneath your crusty, impenetrable exterior you're really lovely and...
Nah, nevermind. It's you. You were terrible.
"The Day of the Locust" is next, and I'm not holding out much hope.