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The only true time which a man can properly call his own, is 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.
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
People
Call
Though
Sense
True
May
Live
Men
Properly
Time
Rest
More quotes by Charles Lamb
There are like to be short graces where the devil plays host.
Charles Lamb
It is good to love the unknown.
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Philanthropy, like charity, must begin at home.
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The measure of choosing well, is, whether a man likes and finds good in what he has chosen.
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A flow'ret crushed in the bud, A nameless piece of Babyhood, Was in her cradle-coffin lying Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying
Charles Lamb
The laws of Pluto's kingdom know small difference between king and cobbler, manager and call-boy and, if haply your dates of life were conterminant, you are quietly taking your passage, cheek by cheek (O ignoble levelling of Death) with the shade of some recently departed candle-snuffer.
Charles Lamb
To sigh, yet feel no pain To weep, yet scarce know why To sport an hour with Beauty's chain, Then throw it idly by.
Charles Lamb
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
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!
Charles Lamb
There is a pleasure in affecting affectation.
Charles Lamb
Literature is a bad crutch, but a good walking-stick.
Charles Lamb
Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.
Charles Lamb
She unbent her mind afterwards - over a book.
Charles Lamb
I could never hate anyone I knew.
Charles Lamb
To pile up honey upon sugar, and sugar upon honey, to an interminable tedious sweetness.
Charles Lamb
A presentation copy, reader,-if haply you are yet innocent of such favours-is a copy of a book which does not sell, sent you by the author.
Charles Lamb
English physicians kill you, the French let you die.
Charles Lamb
No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.
Charles Lamb
Half as sober as a judge.
Charles Lamb
Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.
Charles Lamb