I loved reading to such excess, particularly romances, that I spent
whole days and nights at them. Sometimes the day broke while I continued
to read, insomuch, that for a length of time I almost lost the habit of
sleeping. I was ever eager to get to the end of the book, in hopes of
finding something to satisfy a certain craving which I found within me.
My thirst for reading was only increased the more I read. Books are
strange inventions to destroy youth. If they caused no other hurt than
the loss of precious time, is not that too much? I was not restrained,
but rather encouraged to read them under this fallacious pretext, that
they taught one to speak well.
Autobiography:
Madame Guyon
pg 45
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