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

Men do not understand books until they have a certain amount of life, or at any rate no man understands read more

Men do not understand books until they have a certain amount of life, or at any rate no man understands a deep book, until he has seen and lived at least part of its contents.

Books! I dunno if I ever told you this, but books are the greatest gift one person can give another.

Books! I dunno if I ever told you this, but books are the greatest gift one person can give another.

But the images of men's wits and knowledges remain in books,
exempted from the wrong of time, and capable read more

But the images of men's wits and knowledges remain in books,
exempted from the wrong of time, and capable of perpetual
renovation.

Books like friends, should be few and well-chosen.

Books like friends, should be few and well-chosen.

The true University of these days is a Collection of Books.

The true University of these days is a Collection of Books.

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.

My test of a good novel is dreading to begin the last chapter.

My test of a good novel is dreading to begin the last chapter.

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.