I love my books.
I love the way they look all orderly on the shelves.
I love the way they smell, especially the old ones …kind of dusty and slightly mildewy.
I love the way they feel when I hold them in my hand, even if only to dust them.
I love my books because they mean so many different things…love and learning…giggles and tears…
The ones I remember being read to me, the ones I read to Thing 1 and Thing 2 and my precious twin niece and nephew when they were still little bebes.
The ones I stood in line to meet the author and have signed, and old first editions I’ve tracked down thanks to the internet or by sheer happenstance because I love trolling used bookstores.
Vampires (Lestat not the Cullens) and a little redhaired girl on Prince Edward Island…the Pevensie children and Bennett sisters…Elizabeth and Richard’s furious love and zany madcap humor with Michael Palin…seven years with Harry and Ben Bradlee’s good life…Scarlett and Rhett and Esther Greenwood…in the garden at midnight and watching for falling angels…Morgaine of Avalon and Eloise…I’ve lived and learned and loved with these characters…these friends.
I don’t believe I could ever have too many books…until today…sweet merciful crap I have too many boxes of books!
It’s OK though…I still love them!
therobynbirdsnest 
I still stand by the face that there is no such thing as too many books! 🙂 My shelf in my closet is bowing and about to break under the pressure of books…but that just tells me that I’m lucky to have so many of them!
Cheers!
Courtney Hosny
I couldn’t agree more about being lucky to have so many! The big stacks of boxes make me cringe a little…but there they are, all packed up and ready to go and when they’re back on their shelf in their new home all will once again be right with my world.