Quotes About Bookstore

Hojear libros es parte de la tradición de una librería —le dijo Florence—. Debes dejar que se queden y toquen los libros.

Mostly I was spending time in the Strand, that bastion of titillating erudition. Not so much a bookstore as a collision of 100 different bookstores, with literary wreckage strewn over 18 miles of shelves.

Some bookstores want you to believe they're a community center, like they need to host a cookie-making class in order to sell you some Proust.

With any luck, Heaven itself will resemble a vast used bookstore, with a really good cafe in one corner, serving dark beer and kielbasa to keep up one's strength while browsing, and all around will be the kind of angels usually found in Victoria's Secret catalogs.

I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed; And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless.

The Strand proudly proclaims itself as home to eighteen miles of books. I have no idea how this is calculated. Does one stack all the books on top of each other to get the eighteen miles? Or do you put them end to end, to create a bridge between Manhattan and, say, Short Hills, New Jersey, eighteen miles away? Were there eighteen miles of shelves? No one knew. We all just took the bookstore at its word, because if you couldn't trust a bookstore, what could you trust? Whatever

She never annoyed the bookstore customers and never let on that some of them had literary tastes she found unfortunate.

People who shop at Barnes and Noble voted Ulysses the best novel of the last century, and who's to tell them different? There was a point when I would have liked to, but apparently that's just because I'm a bitch.

I've always loved the language of flowers. I discovered Kate Greenaway's 'Language of Flowers' in a used bookstore when I was 16 and couldn't believe it was such a well-kept secret. How could something so beautiful and romantic be virtually unknown?

I think bookstore browsing will become more cherished as time goes on because it can't be replicated virtually.

I worked at a Books-a-Million in Louisville for several years.

I liked the idea of living in a city — any city, especially a strange one — liked the thought of traffic and crowds, of working in a bookstore, waiting tables in a coffee shop, who knew what kind of solitary life I might slip into? Meals alone, walking the dogs in the evenings; and nobody knowing who I was.

liked the idea of living in a city — any city, especially a strange one — liked the thought of traffic and crowds, of working in a bookstore, waiting tables in a coffee shop, who knew what kind of solitary life I might slip into? Meals alone, walking the dogs in the evenings; and nobody knowing who I was.

Over its twenty-three-plus years, the bookstore had become the center of downtown Santa Rosa.

I sold them to a dealer named Bruce Cable, owns a nice bookstore on Camino Island, Florida.

I later found a bookstore on the Calle de Gravina—Libros, I believe it was called. (I'm not kidding, a bookstore called "Books.")

As for the shop there is a breed of Homo sapiens that will walk inside, take a deep breath, and say, 'Mmm, I just love the smell of old books.' They are to be got rid of as quickly as possible, with whatever violence it takes. I have heard the line a thousand times and never, never have I sold a book to any one of those people.

I wanted to have my own bookstore until I worked in one," [Edward Gorey] reflected in 1998. "Then I thought I'd be a librarian until I met some crazy ones.

I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman where the Self Help section was. She said if she told me it would defeat the purpose.

He was insinuating, he was always around, he was like a cat in a bookstore window, letting his tail slowly drape across all the books as he wandered by.

He's a genius with my Prius," says the co-owner of Left Bank Books, the town's independent bookstore. The

I've never liked eating sweets, so waving a box of chocolates in front of me won't get my attention. For some people, chocolate is a severe temptation. But put me in a well-stocked bookstore and I'll have to restrain myself from buying all those wonderful reference books!

Whenever Mr. Peanuts is feeling especially lonely, he goes to the bookstore. That always cheers him up.

Walking home from work that night, I stopped in the Centicore Bookstore on State Street and wandered up and down the aisles. I saw a thin volume of poetry entitled Fruits and Vegetables by Erica Jong. (Jong had not come out with her novel Fear of Flying yet and was still unknown.) The first poem I opened to in the book was about cooking an eggplant!