Me and my books, in the same apartment: like a gherkin in its vinegar.

The most comfortable place for a tired mind is in the lap of a book.

Beware of books. They are more than innocent assemblages of paper and ink and string and glue. If they are any good, they have the spirit of the author within. Authors are rogues and ruffians and easy lays. They are gluttons for sweets and savories. They devour life and always want more. They have sap, spirit, sex. Books are panderers. The Jews are not wrong to worship books. A real book has pheromones and sprouts grass through its cover.

A good book will surely become an event in your life.

If a book doesn’t inspire you to read more, it was not worth read.

Everyone and Everything is conspiring to end up in a book.