Is persistence just insanity with gilded attire?

I have several books that I started reading at one time or another and set aside because they seemed unduly repetitive. I set a goal this month to finish as many of them as possible. Sometimes the reading feels like drudgery. Occasionally I find a gem that I was not expecting.

My mind sometimes rebels. There are so many other things I could be doing. Why am I persisting in this endeavor? Is this just an obsessive compulsion? Is this a display of crazed perfectionism?

I ponder those questions, yet I persist.

Part of my motivation is pride. I want to know that I know what is in these books. There were important to me once, which is why I bought them and have kept them. So, I persist.

If I was devoting all my time to this cause with no benefit, then that would be insanity. Instead, I strive to work on this until I am worn, and then change to some other task.