My grandma always said that God made libraries so that people didn't have any excuse to be stupid.

Second hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.

Overall, the library held a hushed exultation, as though the cherished volumes were all singing soundlessly within their covers.

In a library we are surrounded by many hundreds of dear friends imprisoned by an enchanter in paper and leathern boxes.

If all shy, soulful young women who dreamed of becoming writers for a living actually could do that, imagine the library we would have.

The library had become her solace. Her refuge.Books did not question or judge. They made safe companions.