Books, for me, are a home. Books don’t make a home – they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book, and you go inside. Inside there is a different kind of time and space. There is warmth there too – a hearth. I sit down with a book and I am warm.
Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are.
That perfect tranquility of life, which is nowhere to be found but in retreat, a faithful friend and a good library.
No matter how busy you may think you are, you must find time for reading, or surrender yourself to self-chosen ignorance.
It is a good rule after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one till you have read an old one in between.