The Yiddish newspapers of the day were excellent, and my father subscribed to the best of them.

Since that time Yiddish journalism has sadly degenerated, through imitation of the vicious "yellow journals" of the American press.
There was one book in the library over which I pored very often, and that was the encyclopaedia.

I turned usually to the names of famous people, beginning, of course, with George Washington.

Oftenest of all I read the biographical sketches of my favorite authors, and felt that the worthies must have been glad to die just to have their names and histories printed out in the book of fame.

It seemed to me the apotheosis of glory to be even briefly mentioned in an encyclopaedia.
And there grew in me an enormous ambition that devoured all my other ambitions, which was no less than this: that I should live to know that after my death my name would surely be printed in the encyclopaedia.