Literature and Words

WHEN I GET A LITTLE MONEY, I BUY BOOKS; AND IF ANY IS LEFT, I BUY FOOD AND CLOTHES.

A BOOK IS A FRAGILE CREATURE, IT SUFFERS THE WEAR OF TIME, IT FEARS RODENTS, THE ELEMENTS, CLUMSY HANDS.

Do not read, as children do, to amuse yourself, or like the ambitious, for the purpose of instruction. No, read in order to live.

A BOOK IS A MIRROR: IF AN ASS PEERS INTO IT, YOU CAN’T EXPECT AN APOSTLE TO LOOK OUT.

ONE HATES AN AUTHOR THAT’S ALL AUTHOR.

For most of my reading I go back to the old ones – for comfort.

There are two motives for reading a book: one, that you enjoy it; the other, that you can boast about it.

IT IS WHAT YOU READ WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO THAT DETERMINES WHAT YOU WILL BE WHEN YOU CAN’T HELP IT.

No human being ever spoke of scenery for above two minutes at a time, which makes me suspect that we hear too much of it in literature.

THE PERSON, BE IT GENTLEMAN OR LADY, WHO HAS NOT PLEASURE IN A GOOD NOVEL, MUST BE INTOLERABLY STUPID.

A MAN CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MUCH RED WINE, TOO MANY BOOKS, OR TOO MUCH AMMUNITION.

The remarkable thing about Shakespeare is that he really is very good, in spite of all the people who say he is very good.

The only demand I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole life to reading my works.

BOOKS DON’T NEED BATTERIES.

Oone should alwayd be drunk… With wine, with poetry, or with virtue as you choose. but get drunk

Reviewers, with some rare exceptions, are a most stupid and malignant race. As a bankrupt thief turns thief-taker in despair, so an unsuccessful author turns critic.

People who are paid to have attitudes toward things, professional critics, make me sick; camp following eunuchs of literature.

I go so far as to say that any library is a good library that does not contain a volume by Jane Austen. Even if it contains no other book.

There are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts.

SOME EDITORS ARE FAILED WRITERS, BUT SO ARE MOST WRITERS.

AS A SLEUTH YOU ARE POOR. YOU COULDN’T DETECT A BASS-DRUM IN A TELEPHONE-BOOTH.

He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished.

The work of a queasy undergraduate scratching his pimples.

THERE ARE TWO WAYS OF DISLIKING POETRY, ONE WAY IS TO DISLIKE IT, THE OTHER IS TO READ POPE.