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Go where glory waits thee! But while fame elates thee, Oh, still remember me!

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
Waiting
Stills
Remember
Still
Waits
Thee
Fame
Glory

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Oh for a tongue to curse the slave Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might!
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I love to lose myself in other men's minds.... Books think for me.
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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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This very night I am going to leave off tobacco! Surely there must be some other world in which this unconquerable purpose shall be realised.
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The greatest pleasure I know, is to do a good action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident.
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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.
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Not many sounds in life, and I include all urban and all rural sounds, exceed in interest a knock at the door.
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How sickness enlarges the dimensions of a man's self to himself! Supreme selfishness is inculcated upon him as his only duty.
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Boys are capital fellows in their own way, among their mates but they are unwholesome companions for grown people.
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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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If dirt were trumps, what hands you would hold!
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I cannot sit and think books think for me.
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Shakespeare is one of the last books one should like to give up, perhaps the one just before the Dying Service in a large Prayer book.
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English physicians kill you, the French let you die.
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There was a little man, and he had a little soul And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!
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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.
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Asparagus inspires gentle thoughts.
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We are nothing less than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might have been, and must wait upon the tedious shores of Lethe millions of ages before we have existence, and a name.
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Lawyers, I suppose, were children once.
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You look wise, pray correct that error.
Charles Lamb