“A philosophy professor at my college, whose baby became enamored of the portrait of David Hume on a Penguin paperback, had the cover laminated in plastic so her daughter could cut her teeth on the great thinker.”

“They fit so perfectly on her hip, but she always had to give them back to their mothers.Not this baby. This one is mine. With David as dad.”

“Of all the forms in which ideas are disseminated, the college professor lecturing his class is the slowest and the most expensive. You don't have to go to college to learn about the great ideas of Western man. If you want to learn about Milton, or Camus, or even Margaret Mead, you can find them. In paperback. In the library.”

“Nine years ago, my sister handed me a paperback she had picked up in an airport shop on her way to India. It was a gloomy-looking book, with a black an white photo of a steam train approaching through fog on the cover. Cutting across the top of the photo was . . . an author's name I did not know: J.K. Rowling. I began to read the novel and by page three, I was hooked.”

“Charming man," he said. "I wish I had a daughter so I could forbid her to marry one...”

“No, baby, no," i whispered into her hair.She pushed her palms against my chest, then became a blur as she ran past. "I'm sorry.”