We're so constrained by browsing the Web, remembering URLs, saving favorites.
As we move to search, we rely on the relevance rankings, the Web matching, the index crawling. But we want to use our brain! We want to navigate, explore, discover information.
Few pleasures, for the true reader, rival the pleasure of browsing unhurriedly among books: old books, new books, library books, other people's books, one's own books - it does not matter whose or where. Simply to be among books, glancing at one here, reading a page from one over there, enjoying them all as objects to be touched, looked at, even smelt, is a deep satisfaction. And often, very often, while browsing haphazardly, looking for nothing in particular, you pick up a volume that suddenly excites you, and you know that this one of all the others you must read. Those are great moments - and the books we come across like that are often the most memorable.
While browsing in a second-hand bookshop one day, George Bernard Shaw was amused to find a copy of one of his own works which he himself had inscribed for a friend: To ----, with esteem, George Bernard Shaw. He immediately purchased the book and returned it to the friend with a second inscription: With renewed esteem, George Bernard Shaw.
It can't possibly last for years and browsing has its limits.
Only a certain amount is healthy or wise.
Last Update: January, 2020