I was going to learn out-of-the-way things, things that had nothing to do with ordinary life--things to _know_.

When I walked home afternoons, with the great big geography book under my arm, it seemed to me that the earth was conscious of my step.

Sometimes I carried home half the books in my desk, not because I should need them, but because I loved to hold them; and also because I loved to be seen carrying books.

It was a badge of scholarship, and I was proud of it.

I remembered the days in Vitebsk when I used to watch my cousin Hirshel start for school in the morning, every thread of his student's uniform, every worn copybook in his satchel, glorified in my envious eyes.