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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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Charles Lamb
Age: 59 †
Born: 1775
Born: February 10
Died: 1834
Died: December 27
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Writer
London
England
Writer
Courses
Course
Hate
Lamb
Men
Lambs
Think
Charles
Thinking
Possibly
English

More quotes by Charles Lamb

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The true poet dreams being awake.
Charles Lamb
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English physicians kill you, the French let you die.
Charles Lamb
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There are like to be short graces where the devil plays host.
Charles Lamb
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In some respects the better a book is, the less it demands from the binding.
Charles Lamb
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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.
Charles Lamb
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Pain is life - the sharper, the more evidence of life.
Charles Lamb
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Some people have a knack of putting upon you gifts of no real value, to engage you to substantial gratitude. We thank them for nothing.
Charles Lamb
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To be sick is to enjoy monarchical prerogatives.
Charles Lamb
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Do not fold, spindle or mutilate.
Charles Lamb
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Newspapers always excite curiosity. No one ever puts one down without the feeling of disappointment.
Charles Lamb
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And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
Charles Lamb
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Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.
Charles Lamb
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Shut not thy purse-strings always against painted distress.
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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The teller of a mirthful tale has latitude allowed him. We are content with less than absolute truth.
Charles Lamb
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No work is worse than overwork the mind preys on itself,--the most unwholesome of food.
Charles Lamb
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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.
Charles Lamb
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Much depends upon when and where you read a book. In the five or six impatient minutes before the dinner is quite ready, who would think of taking up the Faerie Queen for a stopgap, or a volume of Bishop Andrews's Sermons?
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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Dream not ... of having tasted all the grandeur and wildness of fancy till you have gone mad!
Charles Lamb