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It was not just going to college that had made the difference; nor the lectures of all his professors. It was the library, and its endless rows of books, that had made him a new man. He was so grateful to it. He could forget his troubles-even hunger and thirst- when he was in the library. The hours he spent there were spent in a sort of trance. An insatiable desire to find answers to the questions that rose in his mind made him read whatever he could find on a given subject. Sometimes he wanted to read about stars and planets; or he'd be seized by a desire to acquaint himself intimately with life in ancient Greece or Rome... to be swiftly followed by the poetry of Keats, or the life of Napoleon. Sometimes his passion for a subject stayed for just a couple of days. At other times, he spent months pursuing it. The small and the trivial had no place in his mind.
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