When I was reading book six, there were parts I was reading and going, 'Oh, I would love to do that.'

We lose ourselves in what we read, only to return to ourselves, transformed and part of a more expansive world.

Reality doesn’t always give us the life that we desire, but we can always find what we desire between the pages of books.

He wanted to run track last year I think. When he came back to school about six weeks after the accident, he would talk about running. I told him to just take it slow.

Once you read a classic, you will start loving even the smell of the books.

What better occupation, really, than to spend the evening at the fireside with a book, with the wind beating on the windows and the lamp burning bright...Haven't you ever happened to come across in a book some vague notion that you've had, some obscure idea that returns from afar and that seems to express completely your most subtle feelings?