"Books are not dead things..."

...so said John Milton, "but do contain a potency of life...as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest extraction of that living intellect that bred them."
The book in this photo is a gift from my husband to me, given at Christmas. He knows how much I love books, and especially beautiful, handcrafted journals such as this one. This was made by a man in his eighties who covered it with loving care. He used his own hand-marbled paper for the cover and painstakingly covered the binding with artists' canvas, in hopes, he told my husband, that it would be sold to an artist who would decorate it with their own artwork.
I almost don't want to make a mark on it because of the feared potential of ruining it's beauty. Not only do I want to make it beautiful, but I desire to make marks which will make it my own book. Unlike the books in the opening quotation, this book does not contain the "progeny" of another, but instead it has the potential of being the "vial" that holds the "purest extraction of" my own soul. It is a gift which, unlike the gift of a book written by another, offers the opportunity to "publish" a part of myself, a slice of my life, a record of what is important and beautiful to me, a canvas upon which to paint the things I love.
My hope is that when the time comes that I make the last mark in it that it will look lovingly worn, well used, and contain that "potency of life."
What a thoughtful gift.
Thank you, my love.