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There Is No Mistaking A Real Book When One Meets It. It Is Like Falling In Love, And Like That Colossal Adventure It Is An Experience Of Great Social Import. Even As The Tranced Swain, The Booklover Yearns To Tell Others Of His Bliss. He Writes Letters About It, Adds It To The Postscript Of All Manner Of Communications, Intrudes It Into Telephone Messages, And Insists On His Friends Writing Down The Title Of The Find. Like The Simple-hearted Betrothed, Once Certain Of His Conquest

The Unluckiest Insolvent In The World Is The Man Whose Expenditure Of Speech Is Too Great For His Income Of Ideas.

New York Is Babylon : Brooklyn Is The Truly Holy City. New York Is The City Of Envy, Office Work, And Hustle; Brooklyn Is The Region Of Homes And Happiness.... There Is No Hope For New Yorkers, For Their Glory In Their Skyscraping Sins; But In Brooklyn There Is The Wisdom Of The Lowly.

Living In A Bookshop Is Like Living In A Warehouse Of Explosives. Those Shelves Are Ranked With The Most Furious Combustibles In The World--the Brains Of Men.

Truth Is What Every Man Sees Lurking At The Bottom Of His Own Soul, Like The Oyster Shell Housewives Put In The Kitchen Kettle To Collect The Lime From The Water. By And By Each Man's Iridescent Oyster Shell Of Truth Becomes Coated With The Lime Of Prejudice And Hearsay.