The words of Erasmus, the 15th century Dutch philosopher, ran through my head.

This was an unplanned stop. I’d been driving home from Charlottesville, intending to shop at the drugstore for a few needed items. But pulling off the interstate, I spotted the antique mall. Reminding myself that I had the day off and deserved a pleasant hour to myself, I decided to stop.

The book section is in the back of the large building. I’d spent happy hours there before, scanning the stacks for my favorite authors. These book-hunting expeditions are separate visits from antique-hunting ones. You just can’t do both, because they both take time and concentration.

In a previous visit, I’d completed only the first few rows of books. Today I’d start at the back and work forward.

Fortunately, the books are shelved (somewhat) by subject: cookbooks, gardening and nature, history, Virginia history, sports, children’s fiction, old readers. But that doesn’t let you off the hook from searching these sections, because every now and then you find a book that doesn’t belong there. That’s how I found "The Scent of Water" by Elizabeth Goudge in the cookbook section.

Goudge is my favorite author of all time. She wrote and published dozens of books from the 1930s through the 1980s, when she died. One, "Green Dolphin Street," was made into a movie, a very good adaptation. Her books are out of print, and I love the adventure of looking for them.

So I found this book about 10 minutes into my search. Yay! What else is here?

The row on the other side of the aisle was full of literary texts: poetry, plays, classics, criticism. Although most of these are still in print, I prefer older copies that have been used and loved by someone before me. Among these books, in one of the piles on the floor, I spotted a slim volume of poetry by Ruth Pitter.

I don’t know much about Pitter, but she was a friend of C.S. Lewis. One author leads to another. I’d discovered Pitter in one of Goudge’s poetry anthologies, "A Book of Peace."

Anyway, a few minutes later I found another volume of Pitter’s poetry. Since she’s probably out of print too, I thought, I’d better buy them.

Eventually I also picked up "The Long Loneliness," the autobiography of Dorothy Day (signed and inscribed by the author!), and "Rootabaga Stories" by Carl Sandburg. This last is a treasure. The husband read these mesmerizing stories to our kids when they were little (and not so little), but we’d loaned it to someone who did not return it. Alas, we forgot who that someone was. (Are you out there?)

Ready to leave, I held almost $30 worth of books in my hand, which, after my trip to Charlottesville for medical reasons, was about all the money left in my checking account. Buying the books would mean not stopping at the drugstore. That’s when, with my inner ear, I heard the words of Erasmus: "When I get a little money, I buy books; and if any is left, I buy food and clothes."

The drugstore stuff could wait, but the chance to buy these books – each one a treasure – may not come again.

That night, after dinner, the husband was settled with the newspaper and his crossword puzzles. I took my Ruth Pitter books into the parlor, along with a small glass of Bailey’s Irish Cream. I lit several candles and put on a CD of classical music.

Listening to Bach’s "Sleepers, Wake!" and Albinoni’s "Adagio," I read, aloud, softly, Pitter’s poem, "The Heart’s Desire is Full of Sleep":

The heart’s desire is full of sleep,

For men who have their will

Have gained a good they cannot keep,

And must go down the hill

Not questioning the seas and skies,

Not questioning the years;

For life itself has closed their eyes,

And life has stopped their ears.

But some, true emperors of desire,

True heirs to all regret,

Strangers and pilgrims, still enquire

For what they never get;

For what they know is not on earth

They seek until they find;

The children hopeful in their mirth,

The old but part resigned.

And though they cannot see love’s face

And tread his former track;

They know him by his empty place,

They know him by their lack.

I see the company of such,

I wear that worn attire;

For I am one who has had much,

But not the heart’s desire.

Contact Luanne Austin at 574-6272 or laustin@dnronline.com