Now, when I read, I read not,
For interrupting tears
Obliterate the etchings
Too costly for repairs.

Take my books away, and I should be desperate!

But always when I was without a book, my soul would at once become disturbed, and my thoughts wandered. As I read, I began to call them together again and, as it were, laid a bait for my soul

But always when I was without a book, my soul at once became disturbed, and my thoughts wandered.

Now I am here; what thou wilt do with me
None of my books will show:
I read and sigh and wish I were a tree,
For sure, then I should grow
To fruit or shade: At least some bird would trust
Her household to me, and I should be just.

It is worthy of notice that many of this generation, fed on text-books, on anthologies and on abstracts, cannot read.

I would rather be poor in a cottage full of books than a king without the desire to read.

I have given up reading books; I find it takes my mind off myself.

A second-hand bookseller, I found, may read much in his time, but he cannot read continuously.

We live in a world where you could go for the rest of your life never reading a book — after school. And that to me is a sad fate ... because books hold so much.

Is there anywhere on earth exempt from these swarms of new books? Even if, taken out one at a time, they offered something worth knowing, the very mass of them would be an impediment to learning from satiety if nothing else

Who reads
Incessantly, and to his reading brings not
A spirit and judgment equal or superior,
(And what he brings what needs he elsewhere seek?)
Uncertain and unsettled still remains,
Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself.

In adolescence students are suddenly turned loose on books worth reading, but generally don’t know how to read them.