A good book on your shelf is a friend
that turns its back on you and remains a friend.
The worth of a book is to be measured by
what you can carry away from it.
If there’s a book you really want to read
but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.
Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are
the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of
~Charles W. Eliot
Books let us into their souls and lay open to us the secrets of our own.
You know you’ve read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a
little as if you have lost a friend.
“Tell me what you read and I’ll tell you who you are” is true enough,
but I’d know you better if you told me what you reread.
That is a good book which is opened with expectation
and closed with profit.
~Amos Bronson Alcott
Books support us in our solitude and keep us from being
aburden to ourselves.
The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily.
That is what Fiction means.
I love everything that’s old,- old friends, old times,
old manners, old books, old wine.
Books are a guide in youth, and an entertainment for age. They support
us under solitude, and keep us from becoming a burden to ourselves.
They help us to forget the crossness of men and things, compose our
cares and our passions, and lay our disappointments asleep.
When we are weary of the living, we may repair to the dead,
who have nothing of peevishness, pride or design in their conversation
A relationship is like a rose,
How long it lasts, no one knows.
Love can erase an awful past,
love can be yours, you’ll see at last.
To feel that love, it makes you sigh,
To have it leave, you’d rather die.
You hope you’ve found that special rose,
’cause you love and care for the one you chose.
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!