I have a love and respect for books too.
I just don't feel the same way you do about taking chapters out of utilitarian, mass-produced, going-to-be-out-of-date guidebooks.
But I guess I'm just a hick from Oklahoma, heck I probably don't even know how to read. Remembering how we had to burn the books at night in the stove to try and cut the edge off the chill wind blowing in through the cracks of our shack out on the High Plains. That was, of course, after the stagecoach took us to school (but we had to walk home, uphill, in the snow, 3 miles, because it went on to another town of an evening.)
Good thing there's them folks over thar in New York City to tell us whether we respect books or not!! My mom, who chaired our library board in our small town, and spearheaded a years-long historic renovation of a four-room schoolhouse to house our town library, certainly didn't raise me to appreciate and respect books. Nosirree. Only fancy New York City people who have published authors in their family are able to respect books.
The books I've been setting aside this week to take to our local Oxfam bookshop -- guess I'll just burn those, too, since that's all I know to do with books. Even though it's a little warm in Paris this week and the marble fireplace in my Art Deco apartment is a bit dysfunctional. I'll consider it like a sweat lodge--healthy and purifying.
I'm so happy to have been put back in my place, down here.