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The book you don't read can't help
The book you don't read can't help
Any book that helps a child to form a habit of reading, to make reading one of his deep and read more
Any book that helps a child to form a habit of reading, to make reading one of his deep and continuing needs, is good for him.
The books we read should be chosen with great care, that they may be, as an Egyptian king wrote over read more
The books we read should be chosen with great care, that they may be, as an Egyptian king wrote over his library, "The medicines of the soul."
It is all very well to be able to write books, but can you waggle your ears?
It is all very well to be able to write books, but can you waggle your ears?
Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.
Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.
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.
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.
One can live with the thought of one's own death. It is the thought of the death of the words read more
One can live with the thought of one's own death. It is the thought of the death of the words and books that is terrifying for that is the deeper extinction.
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.
