Slothful, feeble, pretentious, pedantic, elitist - these are some of the epithets that eventually become associated with the absent minded scholar, the poor sighted reader, the book worm, the nerd.

Every reader exists to ensure for a certain book a modest immortality. Reading is, in this sense, a ritual of rebirth.

Maybe this is why we read, and why in moments of darkness we return to books: to find words for what we already know.

The love of libraries, like most loves, must be learned.

Each book was a world unto itself, and in it I took refuge.

I have no feelings of guilt regarding the books I have not read and perhaps will never read; I know that my books have unlimited patience. They will wait for me till the end of my days.

I always knew that I wanted to live with books, even as a child, because we traveled a lot. Home was the book to which I came back every evening.

Every library is a library of preferences, and every chosen category implies an exclusion.

If justice takes place, there may be hope, even in the face of a seemingly capricious divinity.

Unicorns, dragons, witches may be creatures conjured up in dreams, but on the page their needs, joys, anguishes, and redemptions should be just as true as those of Madame Bovary or Martin Chuzzlewit.

One book calls to another unexpectedly, creating alliances across different cultures and centuries.

Dig anywhere in the earth and you will find a treasure, only you must dig with the faith of a peasant.

There is a big difference between being busy and being productive. Regardless of how busy one is, one's success can only come from relentless productivity.

When you reach for the stars you may not quite get one but you won't come up with a handful of mud either.

Not all of us have to possess earth-shaking talent. Just common sense and love will do.

NO, I will not accept straight edge into my life!

I prefer to subscribe to that whole, “everything happens for a reason” theory, mostly because the alternative is too disturbing to think about.

Thus, the word is more essential than cement. Thus, the word is not a small nothing. In this manner, noble people begin to grow, and their word will break cement.

A spark neglected has often raised a conflagration.

The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day.

A library is also a place where love begins.