Bibliophiles Quotes

All good and true book-lovers practice the pleasing and improving avocation of reading in bed ... No book can be appreciated until it has been slept with and dreamed over.

[I] read books because I love them, not because I think I should read them.

I perceived quite early that I was a reader, and most of the people I came into contact with were not. It made a barrier. What they wanted to talk about were things they had eaten, touched, or done. What I wanted to talk about was what I had read.

...bookstores, libraries... they're the closest thing I have to a church.

The odd thing about people who had many books was how they always wanted more.

you are a lover of the wordsa soul mate to the storyeverything becomes a part of youfrom my fingertips to your eyesfrom my heart to yours

We live for books.

But now books and men had gone their separate ways. Who has the patience for a book? Only a book.

If you truly love a book, you should sleep with it, write in it, read aloud from it, and fill its pages with muffin crumbs.

Bookish people, who are often maladroit people, persist in thinking they can master any subtlety so long as it's been shaped into acceptable expository prose.

For me, every book is an individual with its own identity and has to be nurtured and taken care of, so that it may survive for a longer period.

Literature takes us away from our grey everyday experience, but brings us back enriched with new sensibilities.

We lusty bibliophiles know that reading, unlike just about anything else, is both good for you and loads of fun.

I'm so glad I have my own copy. I can read them again and again. I can read them again and again on trains, all my life, and every time I do I'll remember today and it will connect up. (Is that magic?)

Should he give free reign to his desires, the bibliomaniac can ruin his life along with the lives of his loved ones. He'll often take better care of his books than of his own health; he'll spend more on fiction than he does on food; he'll be more interested in his library than in his relationships, and, since few people are prepared to live in a place where every available surface is covered with piles of books, he'll often find himself alone, perhaps in the company of a neglected and malnourished cat. When he dies, all but forgotten, his body might fester for days before a curious neighbor grows concerned about the smell.