Reading is not a habit grown of indolence. It is relaxing precisely because it requires and active mind. It is a workout that leaves the exerciser feeling rejuvenated. The act of creation is a burden shared by author and reader alike, the latter reliably removed from the buzzing of his workaday mind for the period it is occupied in the sculpting of word clay into a recognizable reality. A book has no definite form, for it changes with each reader, our individual minds creating an infinite variety of experience, even as it pertains to the same reader, come back to the same text as an older, different person, thus altering the experience. Even simple language can accomplish so much more than most meticulously-sculpted digital forms of reality. If an author tells of a blue car, he has made a variety of blue cars equal to the number of readers he can attain. There is a vastness to the written word that cannot be fully realized tangibly.