Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Back to what is really important
Books, of course. The last few posts seem whiny, which I hate. So I will balance them out with a few quotations about book-love, which is the reason I'm in this business, and I assume the reason that some folks read this blog. I'm almost finished reading Dreamthorp, and in one of his essays ("Men of Letters") Alexander Smith says:
"Books are a finer world within the world. With books are connected all my desires and aspirations. ... I care for no other fashion of greatness. I'd as lief not be remembered at all as be remembered in connection with anything else. I would rather be Charles Lamb than Charles XII. I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory. I would rather build a fine sonnet than have built St. Paul's. ... Fine phrases I value more than bank notes. I have ear for no other harmony than the harmony of words. To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for." (pp.171-172)
I am happy to quote him. I also like this from his essay entitled "A Shelf in My Bookcase":
"... when we open them (books) these past experiences and conditions of life gleam visibly to us far down like submerged cities - all empty and hollow now, though once filled with life as real as our own - through transparent waters." (p.233)
Books as submerged cities, a wonderful image.
"Books are a finer world within the world. With books are connected all my desires and aspirations. ... I care for no other fashion of greatness. I'd as lief not be remembered at all as be remembered in connection with anything else. I would rather be Charles Lamb than Charles XII. I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory. I would rather build a fine sonnet than have built St. Paul's. ... Fine phrases I value more than bank notes. I have ear for no other harmony than the harmony of words. To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for." (pp.171-172)
I am happy to quote him. I also like this from his essay entitled "A Shelf in My Bookcase":
"... when we open them (books) these past experiences and conditions of life gleam visibly to us far down like submerged cities - all empty and hollow now, though once filled with life as real as our own - through transparent waters." (p.233)
Books as submerged cities, a wonderful image.
