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My only books Were woman's looks,- And folly 's all they 've taught me.

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
Book
Looks
Folly
Taught
Books
Woman

More quotes by Charles Lamb

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The man must have a rare recipe for melancholy, who can be dull in Fleet Street.
Charles Lamb
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If there be a regal solitude, it is a sick-bed. How the patient lords it there!
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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You look wise, pray correct that error.
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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Pain is life - the sharper, the more evidence of life.
Charles Lamb
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She unbent her mind afterwards - over a book.
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To be thankful for what we grasp exceeding our proportion is to add hypocrisy to injustice.
Charles Lamb
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Oh stay! oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon.
Charles Lamb
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A child's nature is too serious a thing to admit of its being regarded as a mere appendage to another being.
Charles Lamb
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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!
Charles Lamb
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And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Charles Lamb
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Anything awful makes me laugh. I misbehaved once at a funeral.
Charles Lamb
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In the Negro countenance you will often meet with strong traits of benignity. I have felt yearnings of tenderness towards some of these faces.
Charles Lamb
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Here cometh April again, and as far as I can see the world hath more fools in it than ever.
Charles Lamb
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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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Of all sound of all bells... most solemn and touching is the peal which rings out the Old Year.
Charles Lamb
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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
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I can scarce bring myself to believe, that I am admitted to a familiar correspondence, and all the license of friendship, with a man who writes blank verse like Milton.
Charles Lamb
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I counsel thee, shut not thy heart, nor thy library.
Charles Lamb