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Charles Lamb

Cultivate simplicity or rather should I say banish elaborateness, for simplicity springs spontaneous from the heart.
— Charles Lamb art
I have had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days— All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
— Charles Lamb joy
For God's sake (I never was more serious), don't make me ridiculous any more by terming me gentle-hearted in print.
— Charles Lamb art
Please to blot out gentle hearted, and substitute drunken dog, ragged head, seld-shaven, odd-ey'd, stuttering, or any other epithet which truly and properly belongs to the Gentleman in question.
— Charles Lamb art
Separate from the pleasure of your company, I don't much care if I never see a mountain in my life.
— Charles Lamb life
The man must have a rare recipe for melancholy, who can be dull in Fleet Street.
— Charles Lamb man
Nursed amid her [London's] noise, her crowds, her beloved smoke, what have I been doing all my life, if I have not lent out my heart with usury to such scenes?
— Charles Lamb love
Gone before To that unknown and silent shore.
— Charles Lamb
A good-natured woman...which is as much as you can expect from a friend's wife, whom you got acquainted with a bachelor.
— Charles Lamb nature
Any thing awful makes me laugh. I misbehaved once at a funeral.
— Charles Lamb fun
This very night I am going to leave off Tobacco! Surely there must be some other world in which this unconquerable purpose shall be realized.
— Charles Lamb purpose
[Of ] His face when he repeats his verses hath its ancient glory, an Archangel a little damaged.
— Charles Lamb change
I am determined my children shall be brought up in their father's religion, if they can find out what it is.
— Charles Lamb religion
Fanny Kelly's divine plain face.
— Charles Lamb divine
Who first invented work, and bound the free And holiday-rejoicing spirit down . . . . . . . . . To that dry drudgery at the desk's dead wood? . . . . . . . . . Sabbathless Satan!
— Charles Lamb work
I came home for ever!
— Charles Lamb home
Riddle of destiny, who can show What thy short visit meant, or know What thy errand here below?
— Charles Lamb destiny
When my sonnet was rejected, I exclaimed, 'Damn the age; I will write for Antiquity!'
— Charles Lamb age
Some cry up Haydn, some Mozart, Just as the whim bites. For my part, I do not care a farthing candle For either of them, nor for Handel.
— Charles Lamb art
Can we ring the bells backward? Can we unlearn the arts that pretend to civilize, and then burn the world? There is a march of science; but who shall beat the drums for its retreat?
— Charles Lamb science
He is no lawyer who cannot take two sides.
— Charles Lamb law
The greatest pleasure I know is to do a good action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident.
— Charles Lamb action
The pilasters reaching down were adorned with a glistering substance (I know not what) under glass (as it seemed), resembling—a homely fancy, but I judged it to be sugar-candy; yet to my raised imagination, divested of its homelier qualities, it appeared a glorified candy.
— Charles Lamb imagination
Not if I know myself at all.
— Charles Lamb self
And half had staggered that stout Stagirite.
— Charles Lamb
I like you and your book, ingenious Hone! In whose capacious all-embracing leaves The very marrow of tradition 's shown; And all that history, much that fiction weaves.
— Charles Lamb history
He might have proved a useful adjunct, if not an ornament to society.
— Charles Lamb society
Neat, not gaudy.
— Charles Lamb
Martin, if dirt was trumps, what hands you would hold!
— Charles Lamb art
Returning to town in the stage-coach, which was filled with Mr. Gilman's guests, we stopped for a minute or two at Kentish Town. A woman asked the coachman, "Are you full inside?" Upon which Lamb put his head through the window and said, "I am quite full inside; that last piece of pudding at Mr. Gilman's did the business for me."
— Charles Lamb business
Riches are chiefly good because they give us time.
— Charles Lamb time
For I hate, yet love thee, so, That, whichever thing I show, The plain truth will seem to be A constrained hyperbole, And the passion to proceed More from a mistress than a weed.
— Charles Lamb love
For thy sake, tobacco, I Would do anything but die.
— Charles Lamb die
Nay, rather, Plant divine, of rarest virtue; Blisters on the tongue would hurt you.
— Charles Lamb hurt
Thou in such a cloud dost bind us, That our worst foes cannot find us, And ill fortune, that would thwart us, Shoots at rovers, shooting at us; While each man, through thy height'ning steam, Does like a smoking Etna seem.
— Charles Lamb war
Thou through such a mist dost show us, That our best friends do not know us.
— Charles Lamb friends
The red-letter days, now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-letter days.
— Charles Lamb purpose
For with G. D., to be absent from the body is sometimes (not to speak profanely) to be present with the Lord.
— Charles Lamb time
The human species, according to the best theory I can form of it, is composed of two distinct races, the men who borrow and the men who lend.
— Charles Lamb men
Your borrowers of books—those mutilators of collections, spoilers of the symmetry of shelves, and creators of odd volumes.
— Charles Lamb books
I conceive disgust at those impertinent and misbecoming familiarities, inscribed upon your ordinary tombstones. Every dead man must take upon himself to be lecturing me with his odious truism, that "such as he now is, I must shortly be." Not so shortly, friend, perhaps, as thou imaginest. In the meantime I am alive. I move about. I am worth twenty of thee. Know thy betters!
— Charles Lamb time
A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigor of the game.
— Charles Lamb art
I have no ear.
— Charles Lamb
Sentimentally I am disposed to harmony; but organically I am incapable of a tune.
— Charles Lamb time
I have been trying all my life to like Scotchmen, and am obliged to desist from the experiment in despair.
— Charles Lamb life
Credulity is the man's weakness, but the child's strength.
— Charles Lamb strength
Not many sounds in life, and I include all urban and rural sounds, exceed in interest a knock at the door.
— Charles Lamb life
It is good to love the unknown.
— Charles Lamb love
Lawyers, I suppose, were children once.
— Charles Lamb children
Presents, I often say, endear absents.
— Charles Lamb end
It argues an insensibility.
— Charles Lamb
A poor relation—is the most irrelevant thing in nature.
— Charles Lamb nature
I love to lose myself in other men's minds.
— Charles Lamb love
Books think for me.
— Charles Lamb think
Things in books' clothing.
— Charles Lamb books
Books which are no books.
— Charles Lamb books
How sickness enlarges the dimensions of a man's self to himself.
— Charles Lamb men
Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.
— Charles Lamb mind
A pun is a pistol let off at the ear; not a feather to tickle the intellect.
— Charles Lamb intellect
A presentation copy...is a copy of a book whoch does not sell, sent you by the author, with his foolish autograph at the beginning of it; for which, if a stranger, he only demands your friendship; if a brother author, he expects from you a book of yours, which does not sell, in return.
— Charles Lamb friendship
The good things of life are not to be had singly, but come to us with a mixture.
— Charles Lamb life
If peradventure, Reader, it has been thy lot to waste the golden years of thy life—thy shining youth—in the irksome confinement of an office; to have thy prison days prolonged through middle age down to decrepitude and silver hairs, without hope of release or respite; to have lived to forget that there are such things as holidays, or to remember them but as the prerogatives of childhood; then, and then only, will you be able to appreciate my deliverance.
— Charles Lamb life
From a poor man, poor in Time, I was suddenly lifted up into a vast revenue; I could see no end of my possessions; I wanted some steward, or judicious bailiff, to manage my estates in Time for me.
— Charles Lamb war
I have indeed lived nominally fifty years, but deduct out of them the hours which I have lived to other people, and not to myself, and you will find me still a young fellow. For that is the only true time, which a man can properly call his own, that which he has all to himself; the rest, though in some sense he may be said to live it, is other people’s time, not his. The remnant of my poor days, long or short, is at least multiplied for me three-fold. My ten next years, if I stretch so far, will be as long as any preceding thirty.
— Charles Lamb time
Each day used to be individually felt by me in its reference to the foreign post days; in its distance from, or propinquity to, the next Sunday. I had my Wednesday feelings, my Saturday nights’ sensations.
— Charles Lamb feelings
Sunday itself—that unfortunate failure of a holyday as it too often proved, what with my sense of its fugitiveness, and over-care to get the greatest quantity of pleasure out of it …
— Charles Lamb failure
A man can never have too much Time to himself, nor too little to do. Had I a little son, I would christen him Nothing-To-Do; he should do nothing. Man, I verily believe, is out of his element as long as he is operative. I am altogether for the life contemplative.
— Charles Lamb life
I have done all that I came into this world to do. I have worked task work, and have the rest of the day to myself.
— Charles Lamb work
My motto is: Contented with little, yet wishing for more.
— Charles Lamb wit

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