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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.
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
Imagination
Producing
Left
Spread
Dream
Totally
Earth
Wings
Children
Childhood
Dreams
Holy
Shall
More quotes by Charles Lamb
The English writer, Charles Lamb, said one day: I hate that man. But you don't know him. Of course, I don't, said Lamb. Do you think I could possibly hate a man I know?
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A presentation copy, reader,-if haply you are yet innocent of such favours-is a copy of a book which does not sell, sent you by the author.
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For thy sake, tobacco, I would do anything but die.
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I counsel thee, shut not thy heart, nor thy library.
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Positively, the best thing a man can have to do, is nothing, and next to that perhaps — good works.
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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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I love to lose myself in other men's minds.... Books think for me.
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She unbent her mind afterwards - over a book.
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When twilight dews are falling soft Upon the rosy sea, love, I watch the star whose beam so oft Has lighted me to thee, love.
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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!
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The vices of some men are magnificent.
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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.
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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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Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
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Not if I know myself at all.
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I am accounted by some people as a good man. How cheap that character is acquired! Pay your debts, don't borrow money, nor twist your kitten's neck off, nor disturb a congregation, etc., your business is done. I know things of myself, which would make every friend I have fly me as a plague patient.
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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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No one ever regarded the First of January with indifference. It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left. It is the nativity of our common Adam.
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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.
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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?
Charles Lamb