She never opens a book, and her maid writes her notes.

But then, Two-Bit lies all the time too, and he never opens a book.

One never opens a book written by working men, without shuddering at a hundred faults of style.

He very rarely opens a book.

After they eat and he has her tucked into bed, he goes to his study and opens a book on mathematics.

Even while thinking this she idly opens a book lying on the table near her, where some brushes and paints are scattered.

She opens a book and reads aloud while I take my ease, looking at the pastel portrait which hangs just opposite the window.

Instead, he opens a book and starts to write something, but I can tell he's faking it, because he's staring right at me now.