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A sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature.
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
Sweetest
Sweet
Child
Nature
Children
Thing
More quotes by Charles Lamb
As half in shade and half in sun This world along its path advances, May that side the sun 's upon Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!
Charles Lamb
The true poet dreams being awake.
Charles Lamb
I like you and your book, ingenious Hone! In whose capacious all-embracing leaves The very marrow of tradition 's shown And all that history, much that fiction weaves.
Charles Lamb
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.
Charles Lamb
A presentation copy...is a copy of a book whoch does not sell, sent you by the author, with his foolish autograph at the beginning of it for which, if a stranger, he only demands your friendship if a brother author, he expects from you a book of yours, which does not sell, in return.
Charles Lamb
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.
Charles Lamb
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.
Charles Lamb
Positively, the best thing a man can have to do, is nothing, and next to that perhaps — good works.
Charles Lamb
How sickness enlarges the dimensions of a man's self to himself! Supreme selfishness is inculcated upon him as his only duty.
Charles Lamb
Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.
Charles Lamb
A presentation copy, reader,-if haply you are yet innocent of such favours-is a copy of a book which does not sell, sent you by the author.
Charles Lamb
A flow'ret crushed in the bud, A nameless piece of Babyhood, Was in her cradle-coffin lying Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying
Charles Lamb
She unbent her mind afterwards - over a book.
Charles Lamb
How some they have died, and some they have left me, And some are taken from me all are departed All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Charles Lamb
Dream not ... of having tasted all the grandeur and wildness of fancy till you have gone mad!
Charles Lamb
I have sat through an Italian opera, til, for sheer pain, and inexplicable anguish, I have rushed out into the noisiest places of the crowded street, to solace myself with sounds which I was not obliged to follow and get rid of the distracting torment of endless, fruitless, barren attention!
Charles Lamb
Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.
Charles Lamb
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.
Charles Lamb
While childhood, and while dreams, producing childhood, shall be left, imagination shall not have spread her holy wings totally to fly the earth.
Charles Lamb
The man must have a rare recipe for melancholy, who can be dull in Fleet Street.
Charles Lamb