Quotessence
Home / Topics / Library Quotes

Library Quotes

Browse 2198 quotes about Library.

Related topics

Library Quotes

“You get to a place eventually. The advanced reading section in the library of living. A place where they no longer stock the story that you’re looking for in paperback. Only leather bound first editions... with no fancy art on the cover. This is where they keep the books that look like they’re about to fall apart first day off the press. This is where they keep the books that don’t mind waiting in the darkness for someone to understand them. This is where they keep the books your parents tell you not to read. I’ll say it again. This shit isn’t offered in paperback. You’re gonna need a hard cover to write the hard truths. If it doesn’t have a spine, it’s not gonna stand up for itself. You’ll know you’re getting close when the library goes from quiet to silent. You’ll know you’re getting close when every trace of humanity disappears. You’ll know you’re getting close with the titles all sound like the last chapter at the end of the book. They call this section: “These Books Are Ready To Burn.”

“Of all the luxuries that came with her new life, Belle was certain she would never grow accustomed to the sheer vastness of knowledge available to her. Her library. She had plans to seek out a specific book, the one that had been gifted to her after she read it so many times it had imprinted in her mind. It had everything she loved in a book- an unfamiliar, faraway setting, magic spells and sword fights, and characters in disguise. She had brought it from home and added it to the library only a few weeks before, shelving it hastily before they left for Paris. Normally she would wander the stacks aimlessly, taking the time to pause and pull books from the shelves.”

“Yes, and then it will be just as nice to luxuriate in your thousands of books, knowing in your heart that each one has been accounted for, and that even if you lived a hundred lifetimes you'd never be able to read them all." She looked over to him, her ruse falling away. "I wish to catalog them so we can open the library to all of Aveyon, actually." He paused to study her. "Truly?" "Truly." She hated that her plans surprised him, but she hated how much it bothered her even more. "If you'll excuse me, I have to see to some things." She left him standing there in the courtyard, dumbfounded, and it gave her a small bit of pleasure.”

“The life could be unique, incrediable, awesome, irreplaceable and gorgeous. Without "Easy-Peasy", by putting all people to solve puzzles for example. Somebody asks you a question like "Who is Janne WillDrog?" you answer like that "Never had a future, never went to library, never had a chance to be part of the White House. The White Costumed guy knows the answer!" - The find answer you must solve the riddle and to assemble the puzzle!”

“Forget your magic mirror," she decided to say. "If I lived here, I would spend my whole life in here, reading." "They're just... books...." He carefully lit the candelabra at the front and placed Lumière on the floor, dismissing him. "Just books? That's like saying Alexandria is just a library." She ran over to the closest shelf and tilted her head, reading the titles. "You don't understand. I don't understand how you don't understand. Look- here's an ancient text in Greek about astronomy... and next to it is everything Galileo Galilei ever wrote!! This whole section is about the stars and planets and the entire universe!" The Beast stood, looking slightly embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck with his hand. Belle grabbed a book and ran over to him, shoving it in his face. "Up until this man, Copernicus, everyone thought the entire universe rotated around the earth- that we were the center of it all." She flipped open to a page that had an engraving of planets and their paths, little callouts to their names and the length of their orbits. "Thanks to men like him and Tycho Brahe and Kepler, we now know nothing revolves around the earth- except the moon.”

“They say that Caliph Omar, when consulted about what had to be done with the library of Alexandria, answered as follows: 'If the books of this library contain matters opposed to the Koran, they are bad and must be burned. If they contain only the doctrine of the Koran, burn them anyway, for they are superfluous.' Our learned men have cited this reasoning as the height of absurdity. However, suppose Gregory the Great was there instead of Omar and the Gospel instead of the Koran. The library would still have been burned, and that might well have been the finest moment in the life of this illustrious pontiff.”

“Apro la porta, piano. La chiave scricchiola, il legno geme. L'odore di libri mi raggiunge subito le narici. Inspiro e sorrido. Mi rendo conto che la prima volta che ero stata qui non mi ero accorta di tutti questi dettagli. Ero stata inondata da tutte le sensazioni che sentivo ed ero rimasta stordita, incapace di distinguere tutte le diverse sfaccettature. Sgattaiolo dentro e chiudo la porta. Mi sento come una bambina che abbia trovato un rifugio segreto. Sono come Mary de "Il giardino segreto". Sento nelle ossa che questo posto è mio.”

“You don’t write a book when God called you to publish a library! You don’t plant a tree when God send you to cultivate a forest! You don’t evangelize to a crowd when God called you for a multitude! No matter the circumstances, find yourself doing something relevant and do it till all is well done!”

“It was as if the base of the mountain had been hollowed out by some massive digging beast, leaving a pit descending into the dark heart of the world. Around that gaping hole, carved into the mountain itself, spiralled level after level of shelves and books and reading areas, leading into the inky black. From what I could see of the various levels as I drifted toward the carved stone railing overlooking the drop, the stacks shot far into the mountain itself, like the spokes of a mighty wheel. And through it all, fluttering like moth's wings, the rustle of paper on parchment. Silent, and yet alive. Awake and humming and restless, some many-limbed beast at constant work. I peered upward, finding more levels rising toward the House above. And lurking far below... Darkness.”

“We passed stacks of books and parchments, the shelves either built into the stone itself or made of dark, solid wood. Hallways lined with both vanished into the mountain itself, and every few minutes, a little reading area popped up, full of tidy tables, low-burning glass lamps, and deep-cushioned chairs and couches. Ancient woven rugs adorned the floors beneath them, usually set before fireplaces that had been carved into the rock and kept well away from any shelves, their grates fine-meshed enough to retain any wandering embers. Cosy, despite the size of the space; warm, despite the unknown terror lurking below.”

“This is a place of mystery, Daniel, a sanctuary. Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens. This place was already ancient when my father brought me here for the first time, many years ago. Perhaps as old as the city itself. Nobody knows for certain how long it has existed, or who created it. I will tell you what my father told me, though. When a library disappears, or a bookshop closes down, when a book is consigned to oblivion, those of us who know this place, its guardians, make sure that it gets here. In this place, books no longer remembered by anyone, books that are lost in time, live forever, waiting for the day when they will reach a new reader's hands. In the shop we buy and sell them, but in truth books have no owner. Every book you here has been somebody's best friend. Now they only have us, Daniel. Do you think you'll be able to keep such a secret?' My gaze was lost in the immensity of the place and its sorcery of light. I nodded, and my father smiled.”

“Where the hell are you? I scanned around me, and found nothing but shadow and merry flame and books. Two levels below. And why are you two levels below? I shoved out of my chair, back aching in protest as I stormed for the walkway and rail beyond, then peered down into the gloom. Sure enough, in a reading area two levels below, I could spy his dark hair and wings- could spy him leaning back in his chair before an identical desk, an ankle crossed over a knee. Smirking up at me. Because I can't work with you distracting me. I scowled at him. I'm distracting you? If you're sitting next to me, the last thing on my mind is reading dusty old books. Especially when you're in all that tight leather. Pig. His chuckle echoed up through the library amid the fluttering papers and scratching pens of the priestesses working throughout. ... Two hours of work, he promised me, turning back to the table and flaring his wings- a veritable screen to block my view of him. And his view of me. Then we can play. I gave him a vulgar gesture. I saw that. I did it again, and his laugh floated to me as I faced the books stacked before me and began to read.”

“I suppose the study was more of a library, as I couldn't see any of the walls thanks to the small labyrinths of stacks flanking the main area and a mezzanine dangling above, covered wall to wall in books. But study sounded less intimidating. I meandered through some of the stacks, following a trickle of sunlight to a bank of windows on the far side. I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow. I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colours, gleaming with drew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed the painting that stretched along the wall beside the window.”

“I suppose the study was more of a library, as I couldn't see any of the walls thanks to the small labyrinths of stacks flanking the main area and a mezzanine dangling above, covered wall to wall in books. But study sounded less intimidating. I meandered through some of the stacks, following a trickle of sunlight to a bank of windows on the far side. I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow. I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colours, gleaming with dew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed the painting that stretched along the wall beside the window.”

“I don't understand this irony - valuable things like cars, gold, diamond are made up of hard materials but most valuable things like money, contracts and books are made up of soft paper.”

“Reading is the noblest of all the hobbies, that is why people mention it so frequently in their resume even if they don't read much.”

“Out of all the palace's awe-inspiring interiors, the Round Library had always been Jasmine's favorite. A marble floor painted with a lotus-flower motif gave way to three tiers of balconies lined with books, stretching up to an arched ceiling where a bronze chandelier flooded the circular space with candlelight. Bound books had still been a novelty when the sultan was young, but in the intervening years, he'd amassed a collection of nearly three thousand titles from across the East. This was where Jasmine had come to fill in the gaps in her knowledge while her nonroyal peers were sent off to school. It was thanks to the books in this room that she'd learned to read and write in Greek and Latin along with Persian and Arabic, that she could look at an astrolabe and point out the different planets in the universe. It was where she'd fallen in love with studying maps and imagining other lands, far from here”