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I always find it so hard to finish books because I really can’t stand feeling the journey is over. Perhaps Robert Frobisher was right back in 1931 when he said «A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.» Thus then I set it apart for a while. A day, a month, or even a year. But it keeps rumbling, and when its call becomes too loud I would rush to the book shelf, catch it quickly, sit down and start it all over again. And so every letter, every word, every thought, sound so familiar and remind me why, yet again, I won’t be able to finish reading that book. How do I reach salvation from this struggle?