Many books are dry and dusty, there is no juice in them; and many are
soon exhausted, you would no more go back to them than to a squeezed
orange; but some have in them an unfailing sap, both from the tree of
knowledge and from the tree of life.
By companionable books I mean those that are worth taking with you on a
journey, where the weight of luggage counts, or keeping beside your bed,
near the night-lamp; books that will bear reading often, and the more
slowly you read them the better you enjoy them; books that not only tell
you how things look and how people behave, but also interpret nature and
life to you, in language of beauty and power touched with the personality
of the author, so that they have a real voice audible to your spirit in
the silence.
Here I have written about a few of these books which have borne me good
company, in one way or another,—and about their authors, who have put
the best of themselves into their work. Such criticism as the volume
contains is therefore mainly in the form of appreciation with reasons for
it. The other kind of criticism you will find chiefly in the omissions.
So (changing the figure to suit this cabin by the sea) I send forth my
new ship, hoping only that it may carry something desirable from each of
the ports where it has taken on cargo, and that it may not be sunk by the
enemy before it touches at a few friendly harbours.