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Books are lighthouses erected in the great sea of time
Books are lighthouses erected in the great sea of time
Book lovers will understand me, and they will know too that part of the pleasure of a library lies in read more
Book lovers will understand me, and they will know too that part of the pleasure of a library lies in its very existence
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.
A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.
A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.
That is a good book which is opened with expectation and closed
with profit.
That is a good book which is opened with expectation and closed
with profit.
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.
Hark, the world so loud,
And they, the movers of the world, so still!
Hark, the world so loud,
And they, the movers of the world, so still!
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.
Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image, but thee who destroys a goode booke, kills reason it read more
Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image, but thee who destroys a goode booke, kills reason it selfe.
