> At one-hour intervals the night guards paced past every room. Each time I heard the approaching footsteps, I jumped into bed and feigned sleep. And as soon as the guard passed, I got back out of bed onto the floor area of that light-glow, where I would read for another fifty-eight minutes—until the guard approached again. That went on until three or four every morning.

I did something similar as a child, with my guards being my parents (oh what a metaphor). Looking back, as someone who does not read a vast amount any more, I was privileged with both the means, and the inclination, to have such a habit. God knows it made me who I am.