We must then study the art of Bodily Love. We must not balk or bungle. We must be cool and competent as surgeons; brain, eye and hand the perfectly trained instruments of Will.
We must study the subject openly and impersonally, we must read text-books, listen to lectures, watch demonstrations, earn our diplomas ere we enter practice.
Aleister Crowley, New Comment on I:52, Liber AL vel Legis, The Book of the Law
These, dear girl, are for you. They form this pleasant book. Now strip yourself and get a candle; lunge in front of a looking-glass and read and frig alternately. If you are grown up, a dog or a man to suck you saves labour—of any sort—and time. But I want you to swim in a perfect ocean of fuck as you read—and please God if we ever meet—what ho!
Aleister Crowley, Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden, Prologue
since he had read the Word, the Word was now lodged inside him, even if he had not met the Author; that he had become the Book, the Word made flesh, through that little bit of the divine that the craft of reading allows to all those who seek to learn the secrets held by a page.
Alberto Manguel, The Library at Night [Amazon, Bookshop, Publisher, Local Library]
Sometimes I would read a passage at random, drinking in the impossible luxury of ink organized into meaningful patterns.
Ruthanna Emrys, The Litany of Earth [Amazon, Publisher]
She had found a nasty, forbidden little book in the great Ninth repositories of nasty, forbidden little books, and all the Houses would have had a collective aneurysm if they knew she’d even read it.
Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth [Bookshop, Amazon, Publisher]
They don’t read. They don’t read books. They have no books.
Linda Grant, I Murdered My Library