Wealth & Money Quote by John W. Foster

There is a drill-sergeant snap to Foster's advice: treat your attention like rations, not a buffet. The key word is "economy" - not money, but discipline under constraint. Reading becomes logistics. Time is the scarce resource; the mind is the unit to be supplied; books are either first-rate provisions or dead weight in the pack. That framing makes the counsel feel less like genteel self-improvement and more like preparedness: a soldier's suspicion of wasted motion smuggled into cultural life.

The line "almost exclusively" signals something sharper than mere high standards. It's an argument for triage. Foster isn't saying inferior books are harmless; he's implying they're opportunity costs, quietly eroding the chance to build a serious inner library before life runs out. Even the seemingly polite escape hatch - "except for some special reason" - reinforces hierarchy. You may read lower down the ladder, but only with a mission: research, duty, perhaps knowing the enemy's arguments. Leisure reading, by contrast, is treated as a strategic decision, not a mood.

Context matters: a late-19th-century world in which print is exploding, literacy is widening, and "what to read" becomes a moral question. Canon-making is a form of social sorting, and Foster's prescription aligns with a confident elite sensibility: great books as both intellectual nourishment and cultural passport. The subtext is that taste should be trained like a muscle, and that self-command - choosing the best when mediocrity is abundant - is a civic virtue.