It feels guilty to feel this good

I walked into the library to return three books; I walked out with six.

"Hehehehe," I say in my best Muttley impersonation, "hehehehehe."

And what, you might ask, inspired my guiltily happy chortle?

Three books by/about Dostoevsky and three by/about Nietzsche. Books have not made me this happy (and that, dear Reader, is saying a lot) since discovering Jane Austen.

But wait - it gets better! How can you improve upon Henry Miller (for I still have some books by/about him at home), Dostoevsky, and Nietzsche?! Mein Gott - I found Pixy Stix! Sweet divinity... to hell with nectar of the gods - I have found the cocaine of the gods. You poor, poor mortals.