If truth is beauty, how come no one has their hair done in a library.

If truth is beauty, how come no one has their hair done in a library.

All round the room my silent servants wait,
My friends in every season, bright and dim.

All round the room my silent servants wait,
My friends in every season, bright and dim.

The medicine chest of the soul.

The medicine chest of the soul.

Libraries are as the shrines where all the relics of the ancient
saints, full of true virtue, and that read more

Libraries are as the shrines where all the relics of the ancient
saints, full of true virtue, and that without delusion or
imposture, are preserved and reposed.

Every library should try to be complete on something, if it were
only the history of pinheads.

Every library should try to be complete on something, if it were
only the history of pinheads.

Thou can'st not die. Here thou art more than safe
Where every book is thy epitaph.

Thou can'st not die. Here thou art more than safe
Where every book is thy epitaph.

Some book there is that she desires to see.
Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy.
read more

Some book there is that she desires to see.
Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy.
But thou art deeper read and better skilled:
Come and take choice of all my library,
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens
Reveal the damned contriver of this deed.

Without libraries what have we? We have no past and no future

Without libraries what have we? We have no past and no future

What a place to be in is an old library! It seems as though all
the souls of all read more

What a place to be in is an old library! It seems as though all
the souls of all the writers that have bequeathed their labours
to these Bodleians were reposing here as in some dormitory, or
middle state. I do not want to handle, to profane the leaves,
their winding-sheets. I could as soon dislodge a shade. I seem
to inhale learning, walking amid their foliage; and the odor of
their old moth-scented coverings is fragrant as the first bloom
of those sciential apples which grew amid the happy orchard.
- Charles Lamb (used pseudonym Elia),