It is no doubt a pleasant thing to have a library left you. The present writer will disclaim（放弃）no such legacy（遗赠）, but hereby undertakes（承担，许诺）to accept it, however dusty. But good as it is to inherit（继承）a library, it is better to collect one. Each volume（卷，册）then, however lightly a stranger's eye may roam（漫游）from shelf to shelf, has its own individuality（个性）, a history of its own. You remember where you got it, and how much you gave for it; and your word may safely be taken for the first of these facts, but not for the second.
The man who has a library of his own collection is able to contemplate（凝视，沉思）himself objectively（客观地）, and is justified in believing in his own existence. No other man but he would have made precisely such a combination（结合）as his. Had he been in any single respect different from what he is, his library, as it exists, never would have existed. Therefore, surely he may exclaim（大声宣布）, as in the gloaming（黄昏）he contemplates the backs of his loved ones, "They are mine, and I am theirs."