It's like...magic.

I suppose the thing about reading a new book for the first time, or even an old book for the eightieth time, is the anticipation that maybe, just maybe, my life will never be the same by the time I’m finished. When it’s over, I’ll have new ideas, new perspective, new insights because of a stack of paper bound in plastic covered in black smudges.

If that isn’t magic, I don’t know what is.