Sometimes I walk past small shops, perhaps in the rue de Seine. Dealers in antiques or engravings, or small antiquarian booksellers with overflowing display windows. No one ever goes in, it's obvious that they don't do any business. But if one looks inside they are sitting, sitting and reading, unconcerned; not worried about tomorrow, not anxious about success, have a dog sitting before them, happy, or a cat that makes the silence still larger as it slinks along the rows of books as if it were flicking the names of the spines.
Ah, if that were enough; I would sometimes wish to buy such a full display window and sit behind it with a dog for twenty years.
- Fra The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge av Rainer Maria Rilke