“If someone asks me why I love literature, the answer that I immediately think of is that literature helps me live.
I no longer seek in literature, as I did in adolescence, to avoid wounds that real people could inflict upon me; literature does not replace lived experiences but forms a continuum with them and helps me understand them.
Denser than daily life but not radically different from it, literature expands our universe, prompts us to see other ways to conceive and organize it. We are all formed from what other people give us: first our parents and then the other people near us. Literature opens to the infinite this possibility of interaction and thus enriches us infinitely. It brings us irreplaceable sensations through which the real world becomes more furnished with meaning and more beautiful.
Far from being a simple distraction, an entertainment reserved for educated people, literature lets each one of us fulfill our human potential.”