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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.
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
Something
Rove
Make
Blissful
Love
Near
Think
Lips
Thinking
Dear
Sweet
Sure
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The true poet dreams being awake.
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Dream not ... of having tasted all the grandeur and wildness of fancy till you have gone mad!
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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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Man is a gaming animal. He must always be trying to get the better in something or other.
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To be sick is to enjoy monarchical prerogatives.
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There are like to be short graces where the devil plays host.
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When twilight dews are falling soft Upon the rosy sea, love, I watch the star whose beam so oft Has lighted me to thee, love.
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We were happier when we were poorer, but we were also younger.
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There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.
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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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I conceive disgust at these impertinent and misbecoming familiarities inscribed upon your ordinary tombstone.
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We are nothing less than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might have been, and must wait upon the tedious shores of Lethe millions of ages before we have existence, and a name.
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It is with some violation of the imagination that we conceive of an actor belonging to the relations of private life, so closely do we identify these persons in our mind with the characters which they assume upon the stage.
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No one ever regarded the first of January with indifference.
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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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