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We all have some taste or other, of too ancient a date to admit of our remembering it was an acquired one.

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
Remember
Remembering
Acquired
Date
Admit
Ancient
Taste

More quotes by Charles Lamb

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The vices of some men are magnificent.
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If dirt were trumps, what hands you would hold!
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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.
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A sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature.
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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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And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
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The laws of Pluto's kingdom know small difference between king and cobbler, manager and call-boy and, if haply your dates of life were conterminant, you are quietly taking your passage, cheek by cheek (O ignoble levelling of Death) with the shade of some recently departed candle-snuffer.
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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
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A babe is fed with milk and praise.
Charles Lamb
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Opinions is a species of property - I am always desirous of sharing.
Charles Lamb
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Were I Diogenes, I would not move out of a kilderkin into a hogshead, though the first had had nothing but small beer in it, and the second reeked claret.
Charles Lamb
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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.
Charles Lamb
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Not if I know myself at all.
Charles Lamb
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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?
Charles Lamb
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Oh for a tongue to curse the slave Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might!
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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It is good to love the unknown.
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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Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?
Charles Lamb
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Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
Charles Lamb