I keep buying books—I prefer hardcovers, but paperbacks will do—always with the hope that I’ll find the time to read them. My collection has grown to the point where, if I start today, I just might finish them all before I turn 70…if I try hard enough.

When I daydream, I see myself sunk in a comfortable Eames chair, in some unrealistically perfect cabin, by a raging fire while it snows outside. Two stacks of books sit beside the chair, one read, one not.

Statistician Nassim Nicholas Taleb believes that surrounding ourselves with unread books enriches us, serving as a constant reminder of all we don’t know. I realize I don’t know much.

Our home in Taiwan was wall-to-wall with children’s books, and as a result, our kids grew up reading.

The Japanese even have a word for this practice: tsundoku—the stacks of books you’ve bought but haven’t read.

Maybe it’s time I tried harder.