I now live in a rich and loving universe.

The public library is one of the strangest institutions ever agreed upon. A warm building where anyone may sit, take home eleven pounds' worth of anything, and bring it back.

Nobody finds this remarkable, because it has always been there.

A great deal of the world's richness is already paid for — the park bench facing the right way, the canal path, the sun coming up over the same rooftops without invoicing anyone for the view.

None of it substitutes for money in the account. It does mean the day contains more than what you can buy in it.