Let it suffice for the moment that I repeat the classic dictum: The Library is a sphere whose exact center is any hexagon and whose circumference is unattainable.

The narrator attempts to describe the Library, which is impossible to do in a logical manner. The Library basically extends in all directions, forever. Therefore, as a function of its endlessness, there is no center. Any individual hexagonal gallery can be said to be the center of the circle because the circle extends everywhere. This illustrates to readers that they are in an unreal, infinite, and unknowable space.

Those who believe it to have limits hypothesize that in some remote place or places the corridors and staircases and hexagons may, inconceivably, end—which is absurd.

The narrator believes that the Library, while not infinite, is functionally endless. Mathematically, it is possible to put a number on the amount of books that can possibly exist within the Library. However, this number is several orders of magnitude larger than the number of atoms in the universe. This is an example of a distinction without a difference. Infinity is a concept, and not a number. However, a number can be real and be so large that it makes no practical difference when our minds consider it.

Each book is unique and irreplaceable, but (since the Library is total), there are always several hundred thousand imperfect facsimiles—books that differ by no more than a single letter, or a comma.

This is another example of the fruitlessness of trying to imagine the scope of the Library. This quote is an argument that getting rid of any books makes no practical difference. The Library contains every book. That means that any book has thousands of versions that would be nearly indistinguishable from the original version. Each new version could differ by one comma and be another volume in the Library.