Quotes About Literature

She thought it must be a lonely life for a boy who hated books.

When I am dead, I hope it may be said, 'His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

Only reading, she knew, could distract her from her obsessive thoughts and restore her sense of peace.

Only reading, she knew, could distract her from her obssessive thoughts and restore her sense of peace.

At that time I would read passages of Father's books or a newspaper article that I was certain he had read because I wanted to follow a trail he had taken.

And I remember this man who never ran out of poems telling me once that 'knowing a book by heart is like carrying a house inside your chest.

And I remember this man who never ran out of poems telling me once that knowing a book by heart is like carrying a house inside your chest.

A large, still book is a piece of quietness, succulent and nourishing in a noisy world, which I approach and imbibe with "a sort of greedy enjoyment," as Marcel Proust said of those rooms of his old home whose air was "saturated with the bouquet of silence."

A good book is always on tap; it may be decanted and drunk a hundred times, and it is still there for further imbibement.

He reached into the bag and drew out an odd array of manga, ripped paperbacks of books both classic and modern, and a small stack of crumpled magazines. "See, I even brought some things to read aloud. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so there's a bit of everything.

It was readers that needed to be protected, he thought. Books were something that happened to readers. Readers were the victims of books.

The book turned out to be one she'd read before, where zombies chased around a brother-and-sister reporting team.

He remembered her with ink-stained fingers and a messy apartment full of paperbacks.

Of course I like books!' Justin said, looking up. He didn't know how to explain. He'd started library school to get Linda to Sandlin, but he actually liked it. It felt good to carefully organize the books so that other people would know what they were getting themselves into. 'I've always liked books. I just don't trust them.

He looked down at a red book, embossed in gold. The title was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass. He frowned at it in confusion. It wasn't what he'd thought a mortal book would be like; he thought they would be dull things, odes to their cars or skyscrapers. ... 'This is really a mortal book?' he asked.

From his [Nestor's] tongue flowed speech sweeter than honey.

Mais Paris est un véritable océan. Jetez-y la sonde, vous n'en connaîtrez jamais la profondeur. Parcourez-le, décrivez-le : quelque soin que vous mettiez à le parcourir, à le décrire ; quelques nombreux et intéressés que soient les explorateurs de cette mer, il s'y rencontrera toujours un lieu vierge, un antre inconnu, des fleurs, des perles, des monstres, quelque chose d'inouï, oublié par les plongeurs littéraires.

Reading brings us unknown friends.

This short novel is the opening work of the Scènes de la vie privée, the first volume of La Comédie humaine. The novella was originally entitled Gloire et Malheur (Glory and Misfortune) when it was written in 1829. Published by Mame-Delaunay in the following year, it was followed by four revised editions. The final edition was published by Furne in 1842, appearing under the title of La Maison du chat-qui-pelote.

Les jeunes gens, qui ne savaient à quoi employer leurs forces, ne les jetaient pas seulement dans le journalisme, dans les conspirations, dans la littérature et dans l'art, ils les dissipaient dans les plus étranges excès, tant

Félicité knew neither father nor mother, and was her own mistress from childhood. . . . Chance thrust her into the fields of science and the imagination and the world of literature, instead of loaving her in the small, tight circle of frivolous education traced for women - a mother's instruction in how to dress, in the hypocritical proprieties of society, in the arts of hunting a man.

Circulating libraries were not as yet; if you wished to read a book, you were obliged to buy it, for which reason novels of the early part of the century were sold in numbers which now seem well-nigh fabulous to us.

Our American professors like their literature clear and cold and pure and very dead.

In other countries, art and literature are left to a lot of shabby bums living in attics and feeding on booze and spaghetti, but in America the successful writer or picture-painter is indistinguishable from any other decent businessman.