Reading (n.) is the curse of childhood, and the child who reads ceases to think.
Reading (n.) is the curse of childhood, yet almost the only occupation we can find for children.
Reading (n.) replaces thought in the child: the child who reads ceases to think, he only reads, acquiring words, not knowledge.
Reading (n.) at table is a substitute for company: a page and a morsel by turns, as if the book dined with you.
Reading (n.) goes nowhere if you think you must master every subject a book mentions: he ran through a whole library before reaching page ten.
Reading (n.) is a way of dining in company: alone, the book seems to dine with the reader, a page and a morsel at a time.
Reading (n.) is an instrument of torture to a child forced to it; make it a means to his pleasure and you will not be able to keep him from it.
Reading (n.) shared all night can turn a father into a child: at the swallows' first song he cries, "Come, let us go to bed; I am more a child than thou art."
Reading (n.) can swallow a ball: a lady dressed for the opera picked up Julie, told her servants at two 'There is yet no hurry,' and at four had the horses taken off and read till morning.