Now he would prowl the stacks of the library at night, pulling books out of a thousand shelves and reading them like a madman. The thought of these vast stacks of books would drive him mad: the more he read, the less he seemed to know—the greater the number of the books he read, the greater the immense uncountable number of those which he could never read would seem to be.... He read insanely, by the hundreds, the thousands, the ten thousands. . . . [T]he thought that other books were waiting for him tore at his heart forever. He pictured himself as tearing the entrails from a book as from a...