Master books, but do not let them master you. - Read to live, not live to read.

Master books, but do not let them master you. - Read to live, not live to read.

If there's a book you really want to read but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it

If there's a book you really want to read but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it

This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.

This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.

Books were my pass to personal freedom. I learned to read at age three, and soon discovered there was a read more

Books were my pass to personal freedom. I learned to read at age three, and soon discovered there was a whole world to conquer that went beyond our farm in Mississippi.

Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the read more

Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.

That is a good book which is opened with expectation and closed in profit.

That is a good book which is opened with expectation and closed in profit.

I am like a book, with pages that have stuck together for want of use: my mind needs unpacking and read more

I am like a book, with pages that have stuck together for want of use: my mind needs unpacking and the truths stored within must be turned over from time to time, to be ready when occasion demands

I always read the last page of a book first so that if I die before I finish I'll know read more

I always read the last page of a book first so that if I die before I finish I'll know how it turned out.

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.