Those who know me well know I love books. Often friends will post great pictures of large libraries and I imagine that I could just live there. I love reading. My shelves are filled with books, antique as well as new releases. I was that child in grade school who when the teacher told us it was quiet time and we could read immediately went and picked out several books to read. I was that little girl at home who would rather sit inside and read than play outside, unless of course that meant I could sit on the front stoop (Brooklyn term for the steps leading up to our apartment building) and read undisturbed. Still to this day I would rather keep company with dusty old books, or even good new ones, than much else.
However, I’m quite particular about what I read and why I read it. If you peruse my shelves you will find books from such men like Martin Luther and Herman Sasse to John Warwick Montgomery. You’ll even find such wonderful tales which will take you from the wardrobe of Narnia to the fellowship of the ring. From there you’ll find science books from such as Francis Collins head of the G-nome project and even Hawkings and various philosophers.