mid-life crisis in the library

The other day I was thinking that a library must be a terrible place to have a mid-life crisis.  In a library, one is constantly surrounded by books he will never have time to read and knowledge he will never be able to make his own.  It is almost enough to drive one mad.  If Faust were alive today in one of our moderately sized libraries, he would have gone mad too long before coming to the place of selling his soul.  Slowly, I am coming to terms with this.  I am becoming much choosier in the books that I read.  I do not join book groups.  Still, every day that I walk through the stacks, I am faced with my own finiteness.