During a visit to my mother' s home, I joined her in the living room to talk, read and watch television. Facing a bookcase that has been in the same spot since I was a child, I let my eyes wander over the familiar volumes, many of which now have faded covers and frayed bindings. "These books look so sad," I remarked. "Maybe we should go through them and toss some." My mother stood up and went over to the shelves. She took down several books, turned a few pages and replaced them. Then she returned to her chair and quietly said, 'They are just fine. The stories are still in them.