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Philanthropy, like charity, must begin at home.

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
Must
Like
Philanthropy
Charity
Begin
Home

More quotes by Charles Lamb

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By myself walking, To myself talking.
Charles Lamb
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I am, in plainer words, a bundle of prejudices - made up of likings and dislikings.
Charles Lamb
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A poor relation—is the most irrelevant thing in nature.
Charles Lamb
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I could never hate anyone I knew.
Charles Lamb
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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.
Charles Lamb
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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.
Charles Lamb
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You look wise, pray correct that error.
Charles Lamb
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We were happier when we were poorer, but we were also younger.
Charles Lamb
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I know that a sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature?but the prettier the kind of a thing is, the more desirable it is that it should be pretty of its kind.
Charles Lamb
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A book reads the better which is our own, and has been so long known to us, that we know the topography of its blots, and dog's ears, and can trace the dirt in it to having read it at tea with buttered muffins.
Charles Lamb
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A child's nature is too serious a thing to admit of its being regarded as a mere appendage to another being.
Charles Lamb
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We gain nothing by being with such as ourselves. We encourage one another in mediocrity. I am always longing to be with men more excellent than myself.
Charles Lamb
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Literature is a bad crutch, but a good walking-stick.
Charles Lamb
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The English writer, Charles Lamb, said one day: I hate that man. But you don't know him. Of course, I don't, said Lamb. Do you think I could possibly hate a man I know?
Charles Lamb
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No woman dresses below herself from mere caprice.
Charles Lamb
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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.
Charles Lamb
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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.
Charles Lamb
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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?
Charles Lamb
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Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.
Charles Lamb
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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.
Charles Lamb