“Dad used to read aloud to us from Dickens and Kipling. My tastes were omnivorous. I read anything I could lay my hands on, but the memory that stays with me is that of my father reading the Jungle Books to us when we were young. Beautiful stories!”

“I spent much of my prison time reading. I must have read over 200 large books, mostly fictional stories about the American pioneers, the Vikings, Mafia, etc. As long as I was engrossed in a book, I was not in prison. Reading was my escape.”

“If you walk across my camera I will flash the world your story.”

“The books of our childhood offer a vivid door to our own pasts, and not necessarily for the stories we read there, but for the memories of where we were and who we were when we were reading them; to remember a book is to remember the child who read that book.”

“Dad took moving pictures of us children washing dishes, so that he could figure out how we could reduce our motions and thus hurry through the task. Irregular jobs, such as painting the back porch or removing a stump from the front lawn, were awarded on a low-bid basis. Each child who wanted extra pocket money submitted a sealed bid saying what he would do the job for. The lowest bidder got the contract.”

“I used to always read with a pen in my hand, as if the author and I were in a conversation. ”

“Once it was the blessing, Now it is the Lord;Once it was the feeling, Now it is His Word.Once His gifts I wanted, Now the Giver own;Once I sought for healing, Now Himself alone.Once 'twas painful trying, Now 'tis perfect trust;Once a half salvation, Now the uttermost.Once 'twas ceaseless holding, Now He holds me fast;Once 'twas constant drifting, Now my anchor's cast.Once 'twas busy planning, Now 'tis trustful prayer;Once 'twas anxious caring, Now He has the care.Once 'twas what I wanted, Now what Jesus says;Once 'twas constant asking, Now 'tis ceaseless praise.Once it was my working, His it hence shall be;Once I tried to use Him, Now He uses me.Once the power I wanted, Now the Mighty One;Once for self I labored, Now for Him alone.Once I hoped in Jesus, Now I know He's mine;Once my lamps were dying, Now they brightly shine.Once for death I waited, Now His coming hail;And my hopes are anchored, Safe within the veil.”