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Literature is a bad crutch, but a good walking-stick.

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
Walking
Literature
Good
Crutch
Crutches
Stick
Sticks

More quotes by Charles Lamb

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The vices of some men are magnificent.
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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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
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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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No one ever regarded the first of January with indifference.
Charles Lamb
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The truant Fancy was a wanderer ever.
Charles Lamb
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Positively, the best thing a man can have to do, is nothing, and next to that perhaps — good works.
Charles Lamb
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To sigh, yet feel no pain To weep, yet scarce know why To sport an hour with Beauty's chain, Then throw it idly by.
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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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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No work is worse than overwork the mind preys on itself,--the most unwholesome of food.
Charles Lamb
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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.
Charles Lamb
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Anything awful makes me laugh. I misbehaved once at a funeral.
Charles Lamb
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Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.
Charles Lamb
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May my last breath be drawn through a pipe, and exhaled in a jest.
Charles Lamb
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Half as sober as a judge.
Charles Lamb
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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
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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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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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A sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature.
Charles Lamb