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If I ever fall in love again, I would like it if it were a slightly cold guy. Someone who won't constantly mind about my childish needs but who, the day after the quarrel, for example would offer me a flower accompanied by a sweet note That's kind of guy I need.
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If you were falling in love and you could go back in time and relive a day and see the banal things you did that you'd forgotten about, you'd weep, looking at that day,
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Some say we can't choose who we fall in love with; love chooses us.
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You can't make yourself fall in love, just as you can't choose who you fall in love with.
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To her- Hand in hand we come Christopher Robin and I To lay this book in your lap. Say you're surprised? Say you like it? Say it's just what you wanted? Because it's yours- because we love you.
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The buying of more books than one can read is nothing less than the soul reaching toward infinity...
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My depth of purse is not so great Nor yet my bibliophilic greed, That merely buying doth elate: The books I buy I like to read: Still e'en when dawdling in a mead, Beneath a cloudless summer sky, By bank of Thames, or Tyne, or Tweed, The books I read — I like to buy.
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The selection of a book-plate is such a serious matter.
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Digestion of words as well; I often read aloud to myself in my writing corner in the library, where no one can hear me, for the sake of better savouring the text, so as to make it all the more mine.
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Deserted libraries hold the shades of writers who worked within, and are haunted by their absence.
