He liked not so much what he was reading about as the reading itself, or, better, the process of reading, the fact that letters are eternally forming some word, which sometimes even means the devil knows what.
This is generally how I feel about reading.
D’Artagnan, the original playa:
Do not depend upon me, madame, for the next meeting; since my convalescence I have so many affairs of this kind on my hands, that I am forced to regulate them a little. When your turn comes, I shall have the honour to inform you of it. I kiss your hands.
Poor Lady DeWinter (ha!).