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Books swept me away, this way and that, one after the other; I made endless vows according to their lights for I believed them.

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Private life, book life, took place where words met imagination without passing through the world.

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It has always been a happy thought to me that the creek runs on all night, new every minute, whether I wish it or know it or care, as a closed book on...more

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She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live.

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She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live. She read books as one would breathe ether, to sink in and die.

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So it is that a writer writes many books. In each book, he intended several urgent and vivid points, many of which he sacrificed as the book's form ha...more