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The truant Fancy was a wanderer ever.

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
Wanderer
Wanderers
Fancy
Ever
Truant

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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.
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While childhood, and while dreams, producing childhood, shall be left, imagination shall not have spread her holy wings totally to fly the earth.
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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.
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You look wise, pray correct that error.
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The drinking man is never less himself than during his sober intervals.
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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.
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I love to lose myself in other men's minds.... Books think for me.
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How convalescence shrinks a man back to his pristine stature! where is now the space, which he occupied so lately, in his own, in the family's eye?
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We gain nothing by being with such as ourselves. We encourage one another in mediocrity. I am always longing to be with men more excellent than myself.
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Boys are capital fellows in their own way, among their mates but they are unwholesome companions for grown people.
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You do not play then at whist, sir? Alas, what a sad old age you are preparing for yourself!
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Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.
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I am, in plainer words, a bundle of prejudices - made up of likings and dislikings.
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O money, money, how blindly thou hast been worshipped, and how stupidly abused! Thou are health and liberty and strength, and he that has thee may rattle his pockets at the foul fiend!
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How sickness enlarges the dimensions of a man's self to himself! Supreme selfishness is inculcated upon him as his only duty.
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How I like to be liked, and what I do to be liked!
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To be sick is to enjoy monarchical prerogatives.
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Not many sounds in life, and I include all urban and all rural sounds, exceed in interest a knock at the door.
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A poor relation—is the most irrelevant thing in nature.
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The measure of choosing well, is, whether a man likes and finds good in what he has chosen.
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