Quote

Books of quick interest, that hurry on for incidents are for the eye to glide over only. It will not do to read them out. I could never listen to even the better kind of modern novels without extreme irksomeness.

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
Never
Interest
Quick
Eye
Novels
Read
Extreme
Better
Extremes
Book
Listen
Without
Novel
Glide
Even
Modern
Incidents
Kind
Books
Hurry

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There are like to be short graces where the devil plays host.
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I am, in plainer words, a bundle of prejudices - made up of likings and dislikings.
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Dehortations from the use of strong liquors have been the favourite topic of sober declaimers in all ages, and have been received with abundance of applause by water-drinking critics. But with the patient himself, the man that is to be cured, unfortunately their sound has seldom prevailed.
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I even think that, sentimentally, I am disposed to harmony. But organically I am incapable of a tune.
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Let us live for the beauty of our own reality.
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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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In some respects the better a book is, the less it demands from the binding.
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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.
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Is the world all grown up? Is childhood dead? Or is there not in the bosom of the wisest and the best some of the child's heart left, to respond to its earliest enchantments?
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Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.
Charles Lamb
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Dream not ... of having tasted all the grandeur and wildness of fancy till you have gone mad!
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There was a little man, and he had a little soul And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!
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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.
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There is a pleasure in affecting affectation.
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A book reads the better which is our own, and has been so long known to us, that we know the topography of its blots, and dog's ears, and can trace the dirt in it to having read it at tea with buttered muffins.
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I have passed all my days in London, until I have formed as many and intense local attachments as any of you mountaineers can have done with dead nature.
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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There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.
Charles Lamb
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Don't introduce me to that man! I want to go on hating him, and I can't hate a man whom I know.
Charles Lamb
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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