Faces in the Water - Pg 128

   My books in the bookcase and the shelves around the wall seemed to have absorbed more damp and decay in my absence, as if human contact with them had been an antidote to disintegration; little worms with black eyes had settled on the ends of the pages and begun a marathon meal that they must have thought would never be interrupted, as if the books had told them to devour devour at all costs since whoever had experienced a spiritual hunger for them had long since departed or died.