Only the sinner has the right to preach.

I wish there could be an international peace conference of booksellers, for (you will smile at this) my own conviction is that the future happiness of the world depends in no small measure on them and on the librarians.

A mind too proud to unbend over the small ridiculosa of life is as painful as a library with no trash in it.

Life is a foreign language; all men mispronounce it.

What is the virtue and service of a book? Only to help me live less gingerly and shabbily.

New York, the nation's thyroid gland.

Everybody thinks of others as being excessively human, with all the frailties and crotchets appertaining to that curious condition. But each of us also seems to regard himself as existing on a detached plane of observation, exempt (save in moments of avid crisis) from the strange whims of humanity en masse.