Our booksellers here at London disgrace literature by the trash they
bespeak to be written, and at the same time prevent everything else from
being sold. They are little more or less than upholsterers, who sell
_sets_ or _bodies_ of arts and sciences for furniture; and the
purchasers, for I am very sure they are not readers, buy only in that
view. I never thought there was much merit in reading: but yet it is too
good a thing to be put upon no better footing than damask and
mahogany.--H. WALPOLE. EARL OF ORFORD (Letter to Sir David Dalrymple).
No furniture so charming as books, even if you never open them or read a
single word.--S. SMITH. _Memoirs._