My father left school before he was fourteen years old, as did many boys of his generation. He spent the rest of his brief life in a love affair with books. He was severely practical in his reading, being of the opinion that whatever you want to know is in some book, somewhere.

He died on Christmas Day in my ninth year, and one of his only legacies to me was the axiom in the title. His extensive reading and life’s experience had made this plain, and he made sure that I understood it well.