Best 1113 quotes in «library quotes» category

Besides, Fi was convinced that instinct could determine a body's literary needs, just as physical cravings pointed to dietary shortfalls. She'd experienced it herself more than once among the library's dense shelves; not knowing what she should read next, she'd wandered, sniffing slightly, palms open. When intuition hit, she felt a sensation she couldn't describe exactly: her hands seemed to know where to go. And when she reached, invariably she found exactly the book she needed at that moment - sometimes fiction, sometimes biography, sometimes a slim volume of obscure poetry

Besides, I like libraries. It makes me feel comfortable and secure to have walls of words, beautiful and wise, all around me. I always feel better when I can see that there is something to hold back the shadows.

Biblioteket var hans tilfluktssted fra privatliv og offentlige oppgaver, fra verdens kjas og mas og samtidens uroligheter.

Bibliothèque Nationale. Ich sitze und lese einen Dichter. Es sind viele Leute im Saal, aber man spürt sie nicht. Sie sind in den Büchern. Manchmal bewegen sie sich in den Blättern, wie Menschen, die schlafen und sich umwenden zwischen zwei Träumen.

Books are sacred wisdom.

Books had been her means of escape; now they would be her refuge.

Book should go where they will be most appreciated, and not sit unread, gathering dust on a forgotten shelf, don't you agree?

Books are only half our job ; the other half is human nature.

Bookshelves stood against the four walls. They were shapely and well made, but were all second-hand; Hetty had picked them up on visits to Chesterbourne. She liked her shelves to have personality, as well as the books on them, and thought it would have been simpler to order shelves to be fitted around the room, or to buy those bookcases that grow with the growth of their library, she had stood firm against the amusement of Victor and the irritation of her aunt, and had the shelves she wanted.

Books are what teach you about life. Books teach you about empathy. But you can't buy books if you can't even afford to make rent. That's why libraries are a vital resource. You shut a library, you don't just shut down a building. You shut down hope.

Bookshop and libraries are great celestial places to be.

Books are what teach you about life. Books teach you empathy. But you can't buy books if you barely got enough to make rent. So that library is a vital resource! You shut a library, Louisa, you don't just shut down a building, you shut down hope.

Borges's extreme architecture attempts to visualize the universe by assigning to every object real and unreal, now and yet to come, a code or sign, a corresponding figure within the Library. It seeks to render totality visible, to effect a total visibility and visuality. The Library of Babel is a view of the universe inside and out, an X-ray of the universe and universal X-ray, seen from within and without. It is a representation of everywhere: a perfect duplication of the universe. And of you: universal. An endless and eternal cinema, an imaginary archive that extends into the universe until it is indistinguishable from it, until you are indistinguishable from the universe.

Books will give you new ideas to fly and books can be find in the libraries

But girl! Why don’t you exchange your old books for new ones instead of buying dozens and just throwing them on the shelves? “The bookshop guy asked. I smiled at his wrinkled face while I was grabbing another book “believe me its’ a better idea and you can save a lot of money “said him again. I moved my fingers through the dusty pages and said; but these are the words I failed to say, the different worlds I could’ve not live, and the stories I’ve never had the chance to be told. This is me, my passion, my faithful company and my only legacy. My daughter will find her mom through the marked lines, she may not like them but I know she’ll be rich and free enough to choose her own. “God bless your library, it has been made with a lot of love my young lady “the old man proudly said

But I loved the library simply because it was a library. I love libraries. I like reading, but I love libraries. Being surrounded by books makes me feel safe, the way some people need trees or mountains around them to feel secure. Not me – nature’s not what I cling to. I cling to books.

But then his parents changed. A year of California had changed them. They stopped sending money. Greg was forced to go out into the world, to interact with real people. And he was glad of this. He had always wanted to be a normal person. To be at ease in society. He had just been too scared to try. But now he was forced to, and so he did–he went and got a job at the public library. He was not quite a librarian, but close. Greg was a shelver. There would be carts of books to shelve, then there would be no more carts of books to shelve, then there would be carts of books to shelve. As a shelver, Greg felt that life was passing him by in a slow and distant, but massive, way–like the moon.

But what matters is not the similarities your imagination finds, but the similarities that are implicit in the image, and they are not necessarily the same. I have noticed that the more imaginative readers are often the less successful. Their minds leap to what they think is there rather than waiting with patience. And what matters most of all is where the chosen meaning comes in the hierarch of meaning, you see, and for that there is no alternative to the books. That is why the only alethiometers we know about are kept in or by great libraries.

But the library - especially one so vast - is no mere cabinet of curiosities; it's a world, complete and uncompleteable, and it is filled with secrets.

But we're a university! We have to have a library!" said Ridcully. "It adds tone. What sort of people would we be if we didn't go into the library?" "Students," said Senior Wrangler morosely.

But to her, libraries were like hotels: secret villages inhabited by passing strangers from a thousand different worlds brought together just for a few hours.

...but there was never enough time to read. The great irony of working in a library.

Buying, borrowing, or stealing the book is the easy part.

—Cada uno de nosotros sigue perdiendo algo muy preciado —dice cuando el teléfono deja de sonar—. Oportunidades importantes, posibilidades, sentimientos que no podrán recuperarse jamás. Esto es parte de lo que significa estar vivo. Pero dentro de nuestra cabeza, porque creo que es ahí donde debe de estar, hay un pequeño cuarto donde vamos dejando todo esto en forma de recuerdos. Seguro que es algo parecido a las estanterías de esta biblioteca. Y nosotros, para localizar dónde se esconde algo de nuestro corazón, tenemos que ir haciendo siempre fichas catalográficas. Hay que limpiar, ventilar la habitación, cambiar el agua de los jarrones de flores. Dicho de otro modo, tú deberás vivir hasta el fin de tus días en tu propia biblioteca.

Censors don’t want children exposed to ideas different from their own. If every individual with an agenda had his/her way, the shelves in the school library would be close to empty.

Come with me,' Mom says. To the library. Books and summertime go together.

Choose a leader who will invest in building bridges, not walls. Books, not weapons. Morality, not corruption. Intellectualism and wisdom, not ignorance.

Corliss wondered what happens to a book that sits unread on a library shelf for thirty years. Can a book rightfully be called a book if it never gets read?... 'How many books never get checked out," Corliss asked the librarian. 'Most of them,' she said. Corliss never once considered the fate of library books. She loved books. How could she not worry about the unread? She felt like a disorganized scholar, an abusive mother, and a cowardly soldier. 'Are you serious?' Corliss asked. 'What are we talking about here? If you were guessing, what is the percentage of books in this library that never get checked out?' 'We're talking sixty percent of them. Seriously. Maybe seventy percent. And I'm being optimistic. It's probably more like eighty or ninety percent. This isn't a library, it's an orphanage.' The librarian talked in a reverential whisper. Corliss knew she'd misjudged this passionate woman. Maybe she dressed poorly, but she was probably great in bed, certainly believed in God and goodness, and kept an illicit collection of overdue library books on her shelves.

Dr. Beall gave him the first shot, followed closely by the second. He said, "I'll check for a heartbeat." I said, "You don't need to. I can see it in his eyes." Dewey was gone.

Defending the library service from the predations of ideologically-motivated public schoolboys who had immensely privileged childhoods isn’t ‘whining,’ it is the pursuit of passionately held beliefs.

Don't be afraid to go to your library and read every book as long as any document does not offend your own ideas of decency.

Creating a world within the imagination one day at a time through words and colors.

Die Bibliothek ist das Tagebuch der menschlichen Rasse, das Beratungszimmer der Weisen.

During this time (at high school) I discovered the Public Library... It was here that I found a source of knowledge and the means to acquire it by reading, a habit of learning which I still follow to this day. I also became interested in chemistry and gradually accumulated enough test tubes and other glassware to do chemical experiments, using small quantities of chemicals purchased from a pharmacy supply house. I soon graduated to biochemistry and tried to discover what gave flowers their distinctive colours. I made the (to me) astounding discovery that the pigments I extracted changed their colours when I changed the pH of the solution.

Each one dreams the dream of life in his own way. I have dreamed it in my library; and when the hour shall come in which I must leave this world, may it please God to take me from my ladder—from before my shelves of books!...

Embrace the wonder

... el mar, del que alguien ha dicho que no es otra cosa que una biblioteca de todas las lágrimas de la historia.

Et av mine yndlingssteder i palasset var det kjempestore biblioteket som inneholdt uvurderlige førsteutgaver skrevet av berømte forfattere verden over. Glasskapene der bøkene sto, var alltid låst, de var bare en imponerende prydgjenstand, enda en utsmykning, og jeg tvilte på at noen av bøkene noen gang var blitt tatt ned og lest i løpet av alle de årene de hadde stått der. Jeg pleide ofte å granske hyllene der, og fingrene mine klødde etter å ta frem en bok og holde i den. Jeg måtte nøye meg med de medtatte eksemplarene av Stormfulle høyder, Oliver Twist og Shakespeares Hamlet som den engelske privatlæreren hadde hatt med seg fra England. Gjennom de lange, fredelige ettermiddagene leste jeg dem om og om igjen.

En África, cuando un anciano muere, una biblioteca arde, toda una biblioteca desaparece, sin necesidad de que las llamas acaben con el papel

Every day, librarians enforce copyright policies that we may disagree with and that, in some ways, run contrary to the values of our profession. Every day, librarians must decide between a desire to preserve the privacy of our community members and offering services our communities demand. Every day, librarians must make a choice between doing what’s easy, doing what’s right, and determining what’s right in the first place. No textbook or mission statement or policy document can relieve us of the necessity to make those decisions, nor remove the complexity of those decisions. That’s why we are librarians and why librarians are professionals, not clerks. That’s why we are stewards within the communities we serve, not servants to them. That’s why we must shape the missions and the work of our organizations and communities, and not simply accept them.

Even the most misfitting child Who's chanced upon the library's worth, Sits with the genius of the Earth And turns the key to the whole world. --"Hear It Again

every human being who is born into this universe is like a child who has been given a key to an infinite Library, written in cyphers that are more or less obscure, arranged by a scheme—of which we can at first know nothing, other than that there does appear to be some scheme.

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

Every library is a palace; every book is a king; every reading is a magic!

Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s what part of it means to be alive. But inside our heads — at least that’s where I imagine it — there’s a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in a while, let fresh air in, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you’ll live for ever in your own private library.

Every stage of life is a chapter of a book. You must begin writing your life book.

Everything I am is based on this ugly building on its lonely lawn—lit up during winter darkness; open in the slashing rain—which allowed a girl so poor she didn’t even own a purse to come in twice a day and experience actual magic: traveling through time, making contact with the dead—Dorothy Parker, Stella Gibbons, Charlotte Brontë, Spike Milligan. A library in the middle of a community is a cross be-tween an emergency exit, a life raft and a festival. They are cathedrals of the mind; hospitals of the soul; theme parks of the imagination. On a cold, rainy island, they are the only sheltered public spaces where you are not a consumer, but a citizen, instead. A human with a brain and a heart and a desire to be uplifted, rather than a customer with a credit card and an inchoate “need” for “stuff.” A mall—the shops—are places where your money makes the wealthy wealthier. But a library is where the wealthy’s taxes pay for you to become a little more extraordinary, instead. A satisfying reversal. A balancing of the power.

Fiction, nonfiction. Biography, memoir. Science, psychology. History. Everything had its place. That was the beauty of libraries. No surprise except when someone screwed up, or was lazy, or was a thief.

Every time I went to the library, it felt like a treasure hunt: somewhere amid those dusty books was the answer, and all I had to do was find it.

Few pleasures, for the true reader, rival the pleasure of browsing unhurriedly among books: old books, new books, library books, other people's books, one's own books - it does not matter whose or where. Simply to be among books, glancing at one here, reading a page from one over there, enjoying them all as objects to be touched, looked at, even smelt, is a deep satisfaction. And often, very often, while browsing haphazardly, looking for nothing in particular, you pick up a volume that suddenly excites you, and you know that this one of all the others you must read. Those are great moments - and the books we come across like that are often the most memorable.