Quote

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!

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
Like
Tongue
Blight
Slave
Treachery
Brave
Treason
Hour
Blast
Whose
Deadly
Hours
Council
Comes
Bravery
Blasts
Might
Curse
Councils

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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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No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.
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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.
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For thy sake, tobacco, I would do anything but die.
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For with G. D., to be absent from the body is sometimes (not to speak profanely) to be present with the Lord.
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Sassafras wood boiled down to a kind of tea, and tempered with an infusion of milk and sugar hath to some a delicacy beyond the China luxury.
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Positively, the best thing a man can have to do, is nothing, and next to that perhaps — good works.
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Milton almost requires a solemn service of music to be played before you enter upon him. But he brings his music, to which who listen had need bring docile thoughts and purged ears.
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Anything awful makes me laugh. I misbehaved once at a funeral.
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To be sick is to enjoy monarchical prerogatives.
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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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There is a pleasure in affecting affectation.
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No one ever regarded the first of January with indifference.
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No one ever regarded the First of January with indifference. It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left. It is the nativity of our common Adam.
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I love to lose myself in other men's minds.... Books think for me.
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Mother's love grows by giving.
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A man may do very well with a very little knowledge, and scarce be found out in mixed company everybody is so much more ready to produce his own, than to call for a display of your acquisitions.
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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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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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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