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Think what you would have been now, if instead of being fed with tales and old wives' fables in childhood, you had been crammed with geography and natural history!

Charles Lamb

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Charles Lamb
Age: 59 †
Born: 1775
Born: February 10
Died: 1834
Died: December 27
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Writer
London
England
Natural
Geography
History
Wives
Would
Feds
Think
Fairy
Thinking
Tales
Childhood
Instead
Crammed
Wife
Fables

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You do not play then at whist, sir? Alas, what a sad old age you are preparing for yourself!
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The man must have a rare recipe for melancholy, who can be dull in Fleet Street.
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Opinions is a species of property - I am always desirous of sharing.
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Dream not ... of having tasted all the grandeur and wildness of fancy till you have gone mad!
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Fly not yet 't is just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night And maids who love the moon.
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Oh stay! oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon.
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We do not go to the theatre like our ancestors, to escape from the pressure of reality, so much as to confirm our experience of it.
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It is well if the good man himself does not feel his devotions a little clouded, those foggy sensuous steams mingling with and polluting the pure altar surface.
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The true poet dreams being awake.
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There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.
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Were I Diogenes, I would not move out of a kilderkin into a hogshead, though the first had had nothing but small beer in it, and the second reeked claret.
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If dirt were trumps, what hands you would hold!
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No woman dresses below herself from mere caprice.
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Asparagus inspires gentle thoughts.
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Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.
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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.
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For thy sake, tobacco, I would do anything but die.
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I counsel thee, shut not thy heart, nor thy library.
Charles Lamb
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O money, money, how blindly thou hast been worshipped, and how stupidly abused! Thou are health and liberty and strength, and he that has thee may rattle his pockets at the foul fiend!
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I even think that, sentimentally, I am disposed to harmony. But organically I am incapable of a tune.
Charles Lamb