I can feel infinitely alive curled up on the sofa reading a book.

Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body.

She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live.

Reading makes immigrants of us all. It takes us away from home, but more important, it finds homes for us everywhere.

Once you learn to read, you will be forever free.

Salvation is certainly among the reasons I read. Reading and writing have always pulled me out of the darkest experiences in my life. Stories have given me a place in which to lose myself.

It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive.

That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.

Reading is like thinking, like praying, like talking to a friend, like expressing your ideas, like listening to other people’s ideas, like listening to music, like looking at the view, like taking a walk on the beach.

Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another’s skin, another’s voice, another’s soul.

Reading was a joy, a desperately needed escape—I didn’t read to learn, I was reading to read.

Keep reading. It’s one of the most marvelous adventures that anyone can have.

It is not true that we have only one life to live; if we can read, we can live as many more lives and as many kinds of lives as we wish.

Maybe this is why we read, and why in moments of darkness we return to books: to find words for what we already know.

If one reads enough books one has a fighting chance. Or better, one’s chances of survival increase with each book one reads.