I thought of something strange today. What happened on September 11th wasn't much different from the book burning rallies that Hitler used to hold in Germany during World War II. Humans are books... our birth acts like a softcover and a preface. Our developing lives are the chapters of this book, and our deaths mark the end of the novel.

We lost 3,000 novels filled with understanding, practical knowledge, and love; the back covers hastilly slapped onto the novels prematurely with no climax to ever occur. I don't like feeling that the world became more ignorant that day, but it did.

The future waiting for us was set back.