Quotes About Books

Bruises mapped my body from bumping into tables and tripping over curbs while walking with a book in my hand, my eyes focused on the pages instead of the live space around me.

From the time I was a baby, my mom took me to the library at least once a week. Librarians were like Mary Poppins to me. They always knew how to match a book to my mood or to whatever I was going through at the time. I could always find peace in books.

I preferred to hang out with the dead, dying, or desperate books—used we call them, in a way that we'd never call a person, unless we meant it cruelly. ("Look at Clarissa Ã¢â'¬Â¦ she's such a used girl.")

Librarians were like Mary Poppins to me. They always knew how to match a book to my mood or to whatever I was going through at the time. I could always find peace in books." "And escape?

Librarians were like Mary Poppins to me. They always knew how to match a book to my mood, or to whatever I was going through at the time. I could always find peace in books.

It was Chaos on Glitter Ice. A massacre of librarians.

I could always find peace in books." "And escape?" "Escape, sure. But it wasn't so much about getting away, as going to. You can go anywhere in a book. Books are adventure. Knowledge. Possibility. Magic.

I love the escape. Academics aren't supposed to say that, but it's true. I love to dig into somebody else's vision, nightmare, utopia, whatever. I love how books put a dent in our egos— turns out we're not the first sentient generation on the planet after all. Other people have been just as perspective, just as worked up, about the same damn human problems we face.

Books have a sound too - turn their pages for enough hours and years and you start to rely on it, just as people who live by the shore assimilate the rhythm of the waves: the sweep and ripple marking the end of a page, a sound that seems to be made by the turning of your thoughts rather than the movement of your hand.

I want you to be wise for your own sake, Stephen, because at the best life requires great wisdom. I want you to learn to make friends of your books; someday you may need them, because – ' He hesitated, 'because you mayn't find life at all easy, we none of us do, and books are good friends.

A lo largo de esa semana comprendió que los libros podían ser una tabla de salvación en un océano de silencio y pena.

A lo largo de esa semana comprendió que los libros podían ser una tabla de salvación en un océano de silencio y pena. Y cuando se acostaba, con la espalda dolorida de tanto leer, sentía la mano de Rana en la oscuridad y viajaba con ella por el mundo de las historias leídas.

Books had shown me, however, that all people everywhere wanted their lives to have purpose and meaning. This longing was universal. Even I, in my terrible difference, wanted nothing less than purpose and meaning. Chapter 8, pgs 35-36

Winny didn't know what he would do without his books, except probably go berserk and start killing people and making ashtrays out of their skulls even though he didn't smoke and never would.

How have you kept yourself as yourself all these years? 'Books,' the boy said. 'Thousands of books.' 'They must have been the right books.' 'Some were, some weren't. You figure out which are which.' 'How do you figure it out?' 'At first by how you feel.' 'And later?' 'By reading what's there on the page and also what's not.' 'Between the lines,' she said. 'Under the lines,' he said. -Annamaria and Timothy -Odd Apocalypse by Dean Koontz pg 328 chapter 49

Although he never speaks of how or what or why, I know that his childhood was difficult, that his parents broke his heart. Books and excess poundage are his insulation against pain.

The clump-and-thud of avalanching books suggested that someone must be using the weapon of knowledge in an unconventional fashion.

The way Winny saw it, the best thing and the worst thing were the same thing: nothing lasted ... what to say and felt you didn't belong anywhere, books were a way to lead another life, a way to be someone else entirely, to be anyone at all.

On a small table beside his chair were other haphazardly stacked volumes by such poets as Emerson, Whitman, and Wallace Stevens, a dangerous crew to let into your head.

I longed to pluck a volume off a shelf and escape into its pages, for even the nightmare worlds of Lovecraft, Poe, or Bram Stoker would be more appealing than the real world in which we had to live.

seemed that books might fade entirely from fashion and that vast fields of information, digitized but rarely accessed, would soon become graveyards of once essential knowledge.

Plain, homely women like you and me will never lead a glamorous life, never go to exotic places. So books have a special value to us. We can experience most everything vicariously, through books. This isn't bad. Living through books is even better than having friends and knowing... men.

I would not be surprised, however, if Heaven proved to be a cozy kitchen, where delicious treats appeared in the oven and in the refrigerator whenever you wanted them, and where the cupboards were full of good books.

She brought the brandy bottle and a glass to the table. She had read books in which characters had sat down with a fifth of booze and a heavy load of despair, determined to use the former to wash away the latter. Sometimes it worked for them, so maybe it would work for her. If brandy could improve her state of mind even marginally, she was prepared to drink the whole damn bottle.