Thoughts from the library jotted down in my notes notebook as I studied:

Words were once so precious. To write the length of a tome it took years of work and learning and many resources of the privilidged and more learned. These days, in the age of technology, the written word has become less precious.

No longer are only the learned and more prosperous and more intelligent able to pen their words. Those of enough knowledge to sound out words from the arabic letter and use a computer can type their stream of consciousness and share it with the world.

Words upon words thoughts upon thoughts piling on top of each other making the written word more and more insignificant as we plod on. No longer is it impressive to have pages and pages of observations on life, no longer held sacred the ability to write.

Yet… at the same time, these endless streams of consciousness render the true brilliance behind thoughtful and provoking literature. Finally the difference between the art of writing and mindless drivel can be appreciated. Talent, an ability to tell stories and the ability to express oneself clearly, concisely and cohesively is needed more than ever.

I look behind me and see rows and rows of books. Sheets filled with endless amount of words and I dream that one day some of those sheets will hold words of my own.