A catalogue from the University of Chicago Press just fluttered into my house. I am almost sure that I will never read any of the advertised books. Almost all of the authors are unknown to me. Even the topics they have written on sound unfamiliar. Some of those books would, no doubt, tell me things that are true and worth noting. Should I care that I will never see the words printed between their covers? No. I am content to face the ocean of my ignorance, its waves splashing over the sand at my feet.