There is the legacy of beauty—visual and tactile treasures lifting my spirit to hope.
A book’s cover, its contents, its fonts, its design—all conspire together to take me a new land to which I either willingly or unwillingly travel. This sojourner to striking and strange countries has been grateful for each journey I’ve taken.
In this, the designer, the illustrator, and the publisher have collaborated with the author to bring the book to its form and life.
I’ll pick up beautiful books in my library just to hold them, to allow them to impress me once again, to gently remind my soul, “Beauty matters, Dan. Beauty heals. Beauty gives. Beautify instills hope in this ragged and trying world.”
I hear. I hear.
I am grateful for the legacy of beauty stirring within me because of these books.
There is the legacy of gift—a lingering and recurring mood of delight when I recall how the book made it’s way into my life.
How a book comes to you can be as important in its eventual apprehension and appreciation as the book itself.
Any book that was gifted to me with deep thoughtfulness and awareness of who I am and am becoming, especially if it was signed by the giver or the author, or that came from someone’s personal library, has rarely left my shelf to my remembrance.
By default, I simply refuse to give away a personal note or signature, or a meaningful story of giving—a story that celebrates and commemorates an act of literary love toward me.