Books, books, books! I had found the secret of a garret room Piled high with cases in my fatherโs name; Piled high, packed large,--where, creeping in and out Among the giant fossils of my past, Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there At this or that box, pulling through the gap, In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, The first book first. And how I felt it beat Under my pillow, in the morningโs dark, An hour before the sun would let me read! My books!
Elizabeth Barrett BrowningA good neighbor sometimes cuts your morning up to mince-meat of the very smallest talk, then helps to sugar her bohea at night with your reputation.
Elizabeth Barrett BrowningBooks, books, books! I had found the secret of a garret room Piled high with cases in my fatherโs name; Piled high, packed large,--where, creeping in and out Among the giant fossils of my past, Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there At this or that box, pulling through the gap, In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, The first book first. And how I felt it beat Under my pillow, in the morningโs dark, An hour before the sun would let me read! My books!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning