I cannot live without books: but fewer will suffice where amusement, and not use, is the only future object.

When I didn't have friends, I had books.

They belonged to that very small class of persons who still read, who have mind and leisure to find companionship in books.

Read much, but not many books.

I see you have books under your arm, brother. It is indeed a rare pleasure these days to come across somebody that still reads, brother.

I often wonder what I'd do if there weren't any books in the world.

Thank God for books as an alternative to conversation.

To distract myself from tiresome thoughts, I have only to resort to books; they easily draw my mind to themselves and away from other things.

I have a shelf of comfort books, which I read when the world closes in on me or something untoward happens.

I often carry things to read
so that I will not have to look at
the people.

Books, like friends, should be few and well chosen.

It is one of the blessings of this world that few people see visions and dream dreams.

Many books require no thought from those who read them, and for a very simple reason; they made no such demand upon those who wrote them.

If you cannot read all your books, at any rate handle, or as it were, fondle them – peer into them, let them fall open where they will, read from the first sentence that arrests the eye, set them back on the shelves with your own hands, arrange them on your own plan so that if you do not know what is in them, you at least know where they are. Let them be your friends; let them at any rate be your acquaintances. If they cannot enter the circle of your life, do not deny them at least a nod of recognition.