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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!

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

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A poor relation—is the most irrelevant thing in nature.
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Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.
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I am, in plainer words, a bundle of prejudices - made up of likings and dislikings.
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You may derive thoughts from others your way of thinking, the mould in which your thoughts are cast, must be your own.
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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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This world is all a fleeting show, For man's illusion given The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, Deceitful shine, deceitful flow, Theres nothing true but Heaven.
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Man is a gaming animal. He must always be trying to get the better in something or other.
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Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree?
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It is well if the good man himself does not feel his devotions a little clouded, those foggy sensuous steams mingling with and polluting the pure altar surface.
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You look wise, pray correct that error.
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Not if I know myself at all.
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The teller of a mirthful tale has latitude allowed him. We are content with less than absolute truth.
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'T is sweet to think that where'er we rove We are sure to find something blissful and dear And that when we 're far from the lips we love, We 've but to make love to the lips we are near.
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Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
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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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Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.
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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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Ceremony is an invention to take off the uneasy feeling which we derive from knowing ourselves to be less the object of love and esteem with a fellow-creature than some other person is. It endeavours to make up, by superior attentions in little points, for that invidious preference which it is forced to deny in the greater.
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Why are we never quite at ease in the presence of a schoolmaster? Because we are conscious that he is not quite at his ease in ours. He is awkward, and out of place in the society of his equals. He comes like Gulliver from among his little people, and he cannot fit the stature of his understanding to yours.
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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.
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