Quote by Oscar Wilde

If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.


If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, ther

Summary

This quote emphasizes the importance of finding joy in rereading books. It suggests that if a book does not possess the quality to be enjoyed multiple times, it may not be worth reading in the first place. The quote implies that the value of a book lies not only in its initial reading experience but also in its ability to offer new insights, pleasures, and understandings with each subsequent reading. It encourages readers to seek out books that have enduring appeal and depth, rather than those that provide temporary entertainment.

By Oscar Wilde
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From Les Miserables:All at once, in the midst of this profound calm, a fresh sound arose; a sound as celestial, divine, ineffable, ravishing, as the other had been horrible. It was a hymn which issued from the gloom, a dazzling burst of prayer and harmony in the obscure and alarming silence of the night; women's voices, but voices composed at one and the same time of the pure accents of virgins and the innocent accent of children, -- voices which are not of the earth, and which resemble those that the newborn infant still hears, and which the dying man hears already. This song proceeded from the gloomy edifice which towered above the garden. At the moment when the hubbub of demons retreated, one would have said that a choir of angels was approaching through the gloom.Cosette and Jean Valjean fell on their knees.They knew not what it was, they knew not where they were; but both of them, the man and the child, the penitent and the innocent, felt that they must kneel.These voices had this strange characteristic, that they did not prevent the building from seeming to be deserted. It was a supernatural chant in an uninhabited house. While these voices were singing, Jean Valjean thought of nothing. He no longer beheld the night; he beheld a blue sky. It seemed to him that he felt those wings which we all have within us, unfolding.The song died away. It may have lasted a long time. Jean Valjean could not have told. Hours of ecstasy are never more than a moment.

Victor Hugo