“I discovered news of old horrors in old books; read intelligence of old atrocities in old periodicals; always in the back of my mind, every day a bit louder, I heard the seashell drone of some growing, coalescing force; I seemed to smell the bitter ozone aroma of lightings-to-come.”

“I doubt if I shall ever have time to read the book again -- there are too many new ones coming out all the time which I want to read. Yet an old book has something for me which no new book can ever have -- for at every reading the memories and atmosphere of other readings come back and I am reading old years as well as an old book.”

“She was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.“I never thought to look in here!” she whispered excitedly. “I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading.”“Light?” said Ron.”

“There are three things that grow more precious with age; old wood to burn, old books to read, and old friends to enjoy.”

“I grow old … I grow old … I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.”

“There was the smell of old books, a smell that has a way of making all libraries seem the same. Some say that smell is asbestos. ”