“we are all privately agreed that it is better in books”

“For we've reached a point where we regard real "living life" almost as labor, almost as service, and we all agree in ourselves that it's better from a book”

“We need books...because we are all, in the private kingdoms of our hearts, desperate for the company of a wise, true friend.”

“She denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private.”

“what matters most, it all produces an unpleasant impression, for we are all divorced from life, we are all cripples, every one of us, more or less. We are so divorced from it that we feel at once a sort of loathing for real life, and so cannot bear to be reminded of it. Why, we have come almost to looking upon real life as an effort, almost as hard work, and we are all privately agreed that it is better in books. And why do we fuss and fume sometimes? Why are we perverse and ask for something else? We don't know what ourselves. It would be the worse for us if our petulant prayers were answered. Come, try, give any one of us, for instance, a little more independence, untie our hands, widen the spheres of our activity, relax the control and we ... yes I assure you... should be begging to be under control again at once.”

“... before parting that night we agreed that the objects of life were to produce good people and good books.”