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To pile up honey upon sugar, and sugar upon honey, to an interminable tedious sweetness.

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
Upon
Interminable
Pile
Tedious
Sweetness
Sugar
Honey

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My only books Were woman's looks,- And folly 's all they 've taught me.
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I know that a sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature, not even excepting the delicate creatures which bear them.
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Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?
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There are like to be short graces where the devil plays host.
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And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
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Go where glory waits thee! But while fame elates thee, Oh, still remember me!
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Rags, which are the reproach of poverty, are the beggar's robes, and graceful insignia of his profession, his tenure, his full dress, the suit in which he is expected to show himself in public.
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Don't introduce me to that man! I want to go on hating him, and I can't hate a man whom I know.
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We all have some taste or other, of too ancient a date to admit of our remembering it was an acquired one.
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I have passed all my days in London, until I have formed as many and intense local attachments as any of you mountaineers can have done with dead nature.
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If there be a regal solitude, it is a sick-bed. How the patient lords it there!
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I counsel thee, shut not thy heart, nor thy library.
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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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The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion.
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In some respects the better a book is, the less it demands from the binding.
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And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
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Tis unpleasant to meet a beggar. It is painful to deny him and, if you relieve him, it is so much out of your pocket.
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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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While childhood, and while dreams, producing childhood, shall be left, imagination shall not have spread her holy wings totally to fly the earth.
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May be the truth is, that one pipe is wholesome, two pipes toothsome, three pipes noisome, four pipes fulsome, five pipes quarrelsome and that's the some on't.
Charles Lamb