Quotes About Literature

the one woman who had stood conspicuous, knitting, still knitted on with the steadfastness of Fate.

Mr Pinch accordingly, after turning over the leaves of his book with as much care as if they were living and highly cherished creatures, made his own selection, and began to read.

My father had left a small collection of books in a little room upstairs, to which I had access (for it adjoined my own) and which nobody else in our house ever troubled. From that blessed little room, Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, Humphrey Clinker, Tom Jones, the Vicar of Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Blas, and Robinson Crusoe, came out, a glorious host, to keep me company. They kept alive my fancy, and my hope of something beyond that place and time . . .

Aye, though he loved her from his soul with such a self denying love as woman seldom wins; he spoke from first to last of Martin.

whip and coachman and guard, however, in combination, had read

So much was closing in about the women who sat knitting, knitting, that they their very selves were closing in around a structure yet unbuilt, where they were to sit knitting, knitting, counting dropping heads.

Uriah gave a kind of snivel. I think to express sympathy.

The time was to come, when that wine too would be spilled on the street-stones, and when the stain of it would be red upon many there.

Demon—with the highest respect for you—behold your work!

But Rosa soon made the discovery that Miss Twinkleton didn't read fairly. She cut the love-scenes, interpolated passages in praise of female celibacy, and was guilty of other glaring pious frauds.

The picturesque doctor's daughter, Miss Manette.

You!' said the old man contemptuously. 'What do you know of the time when young men shut themselves up in those lonely rooms, and read and read, hour after hour, and night after night, till their reason wandered beneath their midnight studies; till their mental powers were exhausted; till morning's light brought no freshness or health to them; and they sank beneath the unnatural devotion of their youthful energies to their dry old books?

Clara, are you a perfect fool?

If any preposterous bill were brought forward, for giving poor grubbing devils of authors a right to their own property I should like to say, that I for one would never consent to opposing an insurmountable bar to the diffusion of literature among the people...

Out of my thoughts!You are part of my existence,part of myself,you have been in every line I have ever read.

a spectacle of imbecility only to be equalled by himself.

He'd write letters by the ream, if it was a capital offence!

I never thought, when I used to read books, what work it was to write them.... It's work enough to read them sometimes.... As to the writing, it has its own charms.

We have been indulging,'' [...] "in an intellectual evening.

The door is locked then, my friend?" said Mr. Lorry, surprised.

I do not find it easy to get sufficiently far away from this Book, in the first sensations of having finished it, to refer to it with the composure which this formal heading would seem to require. My interest in it, is so recent and strong; and my mind is so divided between pleasure and regret—

You shall read them, if you behave well,' said the old gentleman kindly; 'and you will like that, better than looking at the outsides,--that is, in some cases; because there are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts.

I have such unmanageable thoughts,' returned his sister, 'that they will wonder.' 'Then

But, the time was not come yet; and every wind that blew over France shook their rags of the scarecrows in vain, for the birds, fine of song and feather, took no warning.