the infinite treasure of books, from which the scribe who is
instructed bringeth forth things new and old? Truth that
triumphs over all things, which overcomes the king, wine, and
women, which it is reckoned holy to honour before friendship,
which is the way without turning and the life without end, which
holy Boethius considers to be threefold in thought, speech, and
writing, seems to remain more usefully and to fructify to greater
profit in books. For the meaning of the voice perishes with the
sound; truth latent in the mind is wisdom that is hid and
treasure that is not seen; but truth which shines forth in books
desires to manifest itself to every impressionable sense. It
commends itself to the sight when it is read, to the hearing when
it is heard, and moreover in a manner to the touch, when it
suffers itself to be transcribed, bound, corrected, and
preserved. The undisclosed truth of the mind, although it is
the possession of the noble soul, yet because it lacks a
companion, is not certainly known to be delightful, while neither
sight nor hearing takes account of it. Further the truth of the
voice is patent only to the ear and eludes the sight, which
reveals to us more of the qualities of things, and linked with
the subtlest of motions begins and perishes as it were in a
breath. But the written truth of books, not transient but
permanent, plainly offers itself to be observed, and by means of
the pervious spherules of the eyes, passing through the vestibule
of perception and the courts of imagination, enters the chamber
of intellect, taking its place in the couch of memory, where it
engenders the eternal truth of the mind.

Finally we must consider what pleasantness of teaching there is
in books, how easy, how secret! How safely we lay bare the