Books, you know, Charles, are like lobster shells. We surround ourselves with ’em, and then we grow out of ’em and leave ’em behind, as evidences of our earlier stages of development.

Dorothy Sayers (1893-1957) English author, translator

The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, ch. 18 “Picture-cards” [Peter] (1928)
    (Source)