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Book Lovers Quotes

Browse 317 quotes about Book Lovers.

Book Lovers Quotes

“E qualcos'altro lo elevava: teneva sul tavolo un libro aperto. In quel bar nessuno aveva mai aperto un libro sul tavolo. Un libro era per Tereza il segno di riconoscimento di una fratellanza segreta. Contro il mondo della volgarità che la circondava, essa aveva infatti un’unica difesa: i libri che prendeva in prestito alla biblioteca comunale…”

“A writer reports on the universe. When he presents his credentials, the gates of heaven and hell are equally opened to him. He can hear the devil’s defense and god’s accusations. The guards at the king’s heart let him in. The writer can be anything and any one he wants. When he writes he is a god, he creates.”

“Read, re-read! Every word you read is a food for thy soul!”

“Book Bans Are Dumb (Sonnet 1587) Book bans are dumb, It makes the mind numb. If banning books were justice, Middle ages would've been fun. I’ve got Mein Kampf on my shelf, next to bible, quran and vedanta. You cannot fathom the wholeness of life, if you let expansion be dictated by law. Expansion can't be contained by law, concocted in the gutter of tribalism. Burning books doesn't prevent darkness, It only obstructs illumination. Book bans are dumb, it makes the world numb. Read reason, fiction, the lot - Stretch your mind beyond medieval vision.”

“Holding a precious book meant to Mendel what an assignment with a woman might to another man. These moments were his platonic nights of love. Books had power over him; money never did. Great collectors, including the founder of a collection in Princeton University Library, tried in vain to recruit him as an adviser and buyer for their libraries—Jakob Mendel declined; no one could imagine him anywhere but in the Café Gluck. Thirty-three years ago, when his beard was still soft and black and he had ringlets over his forehead, he had come from the east to Vienna, a crook-backed lad, to study for the rabbinate, but he had soon abandoned Jehovah the harsh One God to give himself up to idolatry in the form of the brilliant, thousand-fold polytheism of books. That was when he had first found his way to the Café Gluck, and gradually it became his workplace, his headquarters, his post office, his world. Like an astronomer alone in his observatory, studying myriads of stars every night through the tiny round lens of the telescope, observing their mysterious courses, their wandering multitude as they are extinguished and then appear again, so Jakob Mendel looked through his glasses out from that rectangular table into the other universe of books, also eternally circling and being reborn in that world above our own.”

“This week I’ve been reflecting on a passage from my novel, The Time In Between: ‘Dreams don’t carry over calendars. They don’t leave behind the scent of sandalwood or the sound of applause echoing in the back of your mind. They don’t make you wake up wondering if you’ve left a version of yourself behind in another life.’ Have you ever had a dream that felt too real — like it belonged to another version of you? I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

“Oh, look at me, Montag. The man who loved books, no, the boy who was wild for them, insane for them, who climbed the stacks like a chimpanzee gone mad for them. I ate them like salad, books were my sandwich for lunch, my tiffin and dinner and midnight munch. I tore out the pages, ate them with salt, doused them with relish, gnawed on the bindings, turned the chapters with my tongue! Books by the dozen, the score, and the billion. I carried so many home I was hunchbacked for years.”

“The synopsis looked good, the cover looked nice, you opened the book and began a new life. You found a new home, you met some new friends, you kept on reading, hoping it ould never end. You danced through the pages, you sang out the words you felt all their joy, and all their pain and hurt. The pages cut your fingers, and the words cut your heart, like the author had a knife, and was tearing your soul apart. You laughed with the characters, and with them, you cried, you fell in love with them, too but with them, you died, and when the book reached its end, and your broken heart couldn't heal, you suddenly realized that its not real.”