I spent my morning rereading, Postscript to the Name of the Rose, which, as my first introduction to Umberto Eco, I have not read in years. I realize now, more than ever, the impact that Eco has had on me as both a thinker and a writer. I have thought, said, and written nothing that he has not already thought, said, and written. I can only hope that this will remain a constant. If, as he writes, “books are made only from other books,” then may all that I write emerge from the matter of Eco’s.