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    A bad book is as much of a labor to write as a good one, it comes as sincerely from the author's soul.

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  5  /  14  

Every man is a volume if you know how to read him.

Every man is a volume if you know how to read him.

by William Ellery Channing Found in: Books Quotes,
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  5  /  14  

Many people, myself among them, feel better at the mere sight of a book.

Many people, myself among them, feel better at the mere sight of a book.

by Jane Smiley Found in: Books Quotes,
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  18  /  133  

If a book is really good, it deserves to be read again, and if it's great, it should be read read more

If a book is really good, it deserves to be read again, and if it's great, it should be read at least three times.

by Anatole Broyard Found in: Books Quotes,
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  7  /  16  

A man of one book.
[Lat., Homo unius libri.]

A man of one book.
[Lat., Homo unius libri.]

by Amos Bronson Alcott Found in: Books Quotes,
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  13  /  17  

If I have not read a book before, it is, for all intents and purposes, new to me whether it read more

If I have not read a book before, it is, for all intents and purposes, new to me whether it was printed yesterday or three hundred years ago.

by William Hazlitt Found in: Books Quotes,
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  24  /  27  

We shouldn't teach great books; we should teach a love of reading.

We shouldn't teach great books; we should teach a love of reading.

by B. F. Skinner Found in: Books Quotes,
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  6  /  13  

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.

by Francis Bacon Found in: Books Quotes,
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  20  /  39  

Books are humanity in print.

Books are humanity in print.

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  12  /  22  

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.

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