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That place that does contain
My books, the best companions, is to me
A glorious court, where read more
That place that does contain
My books, the best companions, is to me
A glorious court, where hourly I converse
With the old sages and philosophers;
And sometimes, for variety, I confer
With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels;
Calling their victories, if unjustly got,
Unto a strict account, and, in my fancy,
Deface their ill-placed statues.
People create stories create people; or rather stories create people create stories.
People create stories create people; or rather stories create people create stories.
The profit of books is according to the sensibility of the reader. The profoundest thought or passion sleeps as in read more
The profit of books is according to the sensibility of the reader. The profoundest thought or passion sleeps as in a mine, until an equal mind and heart finds and publishes it.
But, indeed, we prefer books to pounds; and we love manuscripts
better than florins; and we prefer small pamphlets read more
But, indeed, we prefer books to pounds; and we love manuscripts
better than florins; and we prefer small pamphlets to war horses.
Oh that one would hear me! behold, my desire is, that the
Almighty would answer me, and that mine read more
Oh that one would hear me! behold, my desire is, that the
Almighty would answer me, and that mine adversary had written a
book.
Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in read more
Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in my father's name;
Piled high, packed large,--where, creeping in and out
Among the giant fossils of my past,
Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs
Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there
At this or that box, pulling through the gap,
In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy,
The first book first. And how I felt it beat
Under my pillow, in the morning's dark,
An hour before the sun would let me read!
My books!
At last, because the time was ripe,
I chanced upon the poets.
Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.
Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.
Books must follow sciences, and not sciences books.
Books must follow sciences, and not sciences books.
The printing press is either the greatest blessing or the greatest curse of modern times, sometimes one forgets which it read more
The printing press is either the greatest blessing or the greatest curse of modern times, sometimes one forgets which it is.
