Woe be to him that reads but one book.
quote by George Herbert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fairy Book
In summer, when the grass is thick, if Mother has the time,
She shows me with her pencil how a poet makes a rhyme,
And often she is sweet enough to choose a leafy nook,
Where I cuddle up so closely when she reads the Fairy-book.
In winter when the corn's asleep, and birds are not in song.
And crocuses and violets have been away too long,
Dear Mother puts her thimble by in answer to my look,
And I cuddle up so closely when she reads the Fairy-book.
And Mother tells the servants that of course they must contrive
To manage all the househod things from four till half-past five,
For we really cannot suffer interruption from the cook,
When we cuddle close together with the happy Fairy-book.
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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The reason a writer writes a book is to forget a book and the reason a reader reads one is to remember it.
quote by Thomas Wolfe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody reads a mystery to get to the middle. They read it to get to the end. If it's a letdown, they won't buy anymore. The first page sells that book. The last page sells your next book.
quote by Mickey Spillane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A real book is not one that we read, but one that reads us.
quote by W.H. Auden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The true owner of a book is not the one who buys it, but who reads it.
quote by William Ospina, translated by Dan Costinaş
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Billet-Doux
She reads by the light of a guttering candle
and likes the feel of each page's gilt edge
as she lifts it slightly at the corner, readying
herself to turn it. If the wind whips
the sycamore branches outside her window,
if her nightgowned shoulders shudder once
from a sudden chill, so much the better,
and the book must tell of children toiling
for bread and pennies in a textile mill,
or tender brothers doomed to sharpen
their bayonets in opposing armies,
or a family of refugees, dust
in their mouths, gazing with longing at the far
shore of a river. And I long only
to be the author of that book she reads
whose page glows from the same dim
flame that illuminates her face,
the author whose thought she contemplates
as she touches a fingertip to a word
to mark her place and turns her head
toward the kettle that has begun to whistle.
poem by Chris Forhan
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If anybody reads a story in a magazine or book, different pictures compete in their minds.
quote by Vincente Minnelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The world is a great book; he who never stirs from home reads only a page.
quote by Saint Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A book reads the better which is our own, and has been so long known to us, that we know the topography of its blots, and dog's ears, and can trace the dirt in it to having read it at tea with buttered muffins.
quote by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whenever one reads of the determination of the species, or opens a book on natural science and history, in whatever language, one inevitably comes across the name of Linne.
quote by Johannes Vilhelm Jensen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seeking everything
Seeking everything
~
A life, a world so often sought
Without a picture of what it may be
A world, a phrase somewhere picked up
In a poem, a book or a song
To what it reads we all think different
And interpretation becomes the thought
The thought becomes the dream
A lavish fantasy so well looked upon
That we are all lost in what we seek
Blind to the ambition it brings
Blind to the fantasy of which it reads
We take each word by our own demands
Pluck them like flowers to the vase
That all we see is a thing of beauty
The first picture of a new world
Where the new life does await
And however it may or may not look
It remains but a thought and what we find
Is that which we seek to fulfil our lives
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The man who reads nothing at all is better educated than the man who reads nothing but newspapers.
quote by Thomas Jefferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For A Marriage Of St. Catherine By Hans Memmelinck
(In the Hospital of St. John at Bruges)
MYSTERY: Catherine the bride of Christ.
She kneels, and on her hand the holy Child
Now sets the ring. Her life is hushed and mild,
Laid in God's knowledge—ever unenticed
From God, and in the end thus fitly priced.
Awe, and the music that is near her, wrought
Of angels, have possessed her eyes in thought:
Her utter joy is hers, and hath sufficed.
There is a pause while Mary Virgin turns
The leaf, and reads. With eyes on the spread book,
That damsel at her knees reads after her.
John whom He loved, and John His harbinger,
Listen and watch. Whereon soe'er thou look,
The light is starred in gems and the gold burns.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Why.............?
The American book of 'why',
The Asian book of 'why',
The European book of 'why',
The African book of 'why',
The Australian book of 'why',
The most asked question in the valley of world events;
Especially when one explodes a bomb!
The Christian book of 'why',
The Muslim book of 'why',
The Jewish book of 'why',
The Hindu book of 'why',
The Krishna book of 'why',
lLife is like the yeast which makes the bread rise;
But, the writer always has his or her own mind.
The Pagan book of 'why',
The Buddhist book of 'why',
The Protestant book of 'why',
The Confucian book of 'why',
To all life's aspects with the remaining books of 'why';
Poetry is the literature that muses with the mind.
Shall the trumpet be blown in the city and,
The people will not be afraid?
Seven bulls and seven rams,
I am the planted tree by the rivers of waters.
I am very young in years but,
The word 'why' is the question that goes around easily.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Man sees many horizons at the journey's end
There are lot of names and addresses engraved in his book of heart.
Before he leaves, He reads all and thinks when he gets a chance to have a kind word with them.
Poor Journeyman! Please do not keep any regrets
As you too a passing cloud in the nameless sky.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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No one comes.
No one comes.
No one reads.
I feel no sense I'm so displeased.
A worthjess speck of dust you see,
an annoyance here, my heart does bleed.
So what's the point my dear?
Nobody cares not even you I fear.
No one comes
and no one reads.
An invisible being that no one needs.
poem by Michael McParland
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Differences
My neighbor lives on the hill,
And I in the valley dwell,
My neighbor must look down on me,
Must I look up?--ah, well,
My neighbor lives on the hill,
And I in the valley dwell.
My neighbor reads, and prays,
And I--I laugh, God wot,
And sing like a bird when the grass is green
In my small garden plot;
But ah, he reads and prays,
And I--I laugh, God wot.
His face is a book of woe,
And mine is a song of glee;
A slave he is to the great 'They say,'
But I--I am bold and free;
No wonder he smacks of woe,
And I have the tang of glee.
My neighbor thinks me a fool,
'The same to yourself,' say I;
'Why take your books and take your prayers,
Give me the open sky;'
My neighbor thinks me a fool,
'The same to yourself,' say I.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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My Book
Before I drink myself to death,
God, let me finish up my Book!
At night, I fear, I fight for breath,
And wake up whiter than a spook;
And crawl off to a bistro near,
And drink until my brain is clear.
Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength
To write and write; and so I spend
Day after day, until at length
With joy and pain I'll write The End:
Then let this carcase rot; I give
The world my Book -- my Book will live.
For every line is tense with truth,
There's hope and joy on every page;
A cheer, a clarion call to Youth,
A hymn, a comforter to Age:
All's there that I was meant to be,
My part divine, the God in me.
It's of my life the golden sum;
Ah! who that reads this Book of mine,
In stormy centuries to come,
Will dream I rooted with the swine?
Behold! I give mankind my best:
What does it matter, all the rest?
It's this that makes sublime my day;
It's this that makes me struggle on.
Oh, let them mock my mortal clay,
My spirit's deathless as the dawn;
Oh, let them shudder as they look . . .
I'll be immortal in my Book.
And so beside the sullen Seine
I fight with dogs for filthy food,
Yet know that from my sin and pain
Will soar serene a Something Good;
Exultantly from shame and wrong
A Right, a Glory and a Song.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Best Book In The World
the best book
in the world
the only true book
is the world itself
the Book of Nature
the best book is the silence
the wordless-ness in
the clouds and the sky
and the rivers and the oceans
and the lands
and the grass that breaks through the concrete;
and in the deserts and the volcanoes
and the stars
and the moon
and the creatures of the earth
and in all fellow beings
and the vastness beyond
and the vastness within
the best book
the only true book
(every other book is distortion)
is the world itself
the Book of Nature:
read it
poem by Raj Arumugam
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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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