There are flowers, music, the world of art, the eager faces of children. There is a joyful crackling of a fire on a hearth, the pungent smell of woods after rain, the taste of strawberries warm with the sun. There is candlelight and good talk. There are dresses and hats, sherry and tea, and the safe escape of work. There are books to transport and enchant, to help chart life, to point the way. On soul-shriveling nights when thoughts hang like bats on the mind, there are books that save one’s sanity, that lift the sin of sadness from one’s soul.