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

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You do not play then at whist, sir? Alas, what a sad old age you are preparing for yourself!
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Half as sober as a judge.
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English physicians kill you, the French let you die.
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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.
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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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I hate a man who swallows [his food], affecting not to know what he is eating. I suspect his taste in higher matters.
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No one ever regarded the first of January with indifference.
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I never knew an enemy to puns who was not an ill-natured man.
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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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Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.
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Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!
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Not if I know myself at all.
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The pilasters reaching down were adorned with a glistering substance (I know not what) under glass (as it seemed), resembling - a homely fancy, but I judged it to be sugar-candy yet to my raised imagination, divested of its homelier qualities, it appeared a glorified candy.
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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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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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Satire does not look pretty upon a tombstone.
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The vices of some men are magnificent.
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Books of quick interest, that hurry on for incidents are for the eye to glide over only. It will not do to read them out. I could never listen to even the better kind of modern novels without extreme irksomeness.
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Books think for me. I can read anything which I call a book.
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If dirt were trumps, what hands you would hold!
Charles Lamb