Let My Temptation Be A Book.

When I Demanded Of My Friend What Viands He Preferred, He Quoth: "a Large Cold Bottle, And A Small Hot Bird!"

No Book Can Be Appreciated Until It Has Been Slept With And Dreamed Over.

How Gracious Those Dews Of Solace That Over My Senses Fall At The Clink Of The Ice In The Pitcher The Boy Brings Up The Hall.

Books Do Actually Consume Air And Exhale Perfumes.

I'd Like A Stocking Made For A Giant, And A Meeting House Full Of Toys, Then I'd Go Out In A Happy Hunt For The Poor Little Girls And Boys; Up The Street And Down The Street, And Across And Over The Town, I'd Search And Find Them Everyone, Before The Sun Went Down.