I will achieve in my life - Heaven grant that it be not long - some gigantic amalgamation between the two discrepancies so hideously apparent to me. Out of my suffering I will do it. I will knock. I will enter.

Speech is an old torn net, through which the fish escape as one casts it over them.

Conversation, fastidious goddess, loves blood better than brick, and feasts most subtly on the human will.

Second hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.

No sooner have you feasted on beauty with your eyes than your mind tells you that beauty is vain and beauty passes

Writing is a divine art, and the more I write and read the more I love it.

When the Day of Judgment dawns and people, great and small, come marching in to receive their heavenly rewards, the Almighty will gaze upon the mere bookworms and say to Peter, “Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them. They have loved reading.