He had once reckoned out as a joke that three asses could not carry the books which he had read since his childhood.
They had afforded him a glimpse of all times and places, and of all provinces of human life.

Now he asked himself what it had all brought him.

Confusion, perplexity, nothing besides.

He had thought about everything, but he could not be clear about anything.

That was not generally possible, he had read in one of the books, and the statement pacified him.