“Around the narrow circuit of the room Breast-high the books I love range file on file; And when, day-weary, I would rest awhile, As once again slow falls the gathering gloom Upon the world, I love to pass my hand Along their serried ranks, and silent stand In breathless heark'ning to their silent speech. With rev'rent hand I touch the back of each Of these my books. How much of their dear selves— The hand that held the pen, the brain that wrought The subtle fancies on these pages caught— Have men immortal left upon my shelves!”

“As for Flaubert, Madame Bovary is one of the few novels that moves me in every way, not only in its style, but in its total communicability, like the effect of good poetry. What I really mean is that a great book should leave you with many experiences, and slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading it. Its writer should, too.”

“I fancy that at the beginning some fairy may have offered me the choice between great power and station and the privilege of living always among books, and that I, like the good child in the fairy tale, chose the latter.”

“Destroying a book is like destroying a whole world.”

“It's just got me kind of wild, being turned loose amongst so many books.”

“Our passions are ourselves. My old books are Me. I am just as old and thumb-worn as they are.”

“There is a great deal of difference between the eager man who wants to read a book, and the tired man who wants a book to read. A man reading a Le Queux mystery wants to get to the end of it. A man reading the Dickens novel wished that it might never end.”