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If there be a regal solitude, it is a sick-bed. How the patient lords it there!

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
Sickness
Solitude
Bed
Patient
Sick
Lord
Regal
Lords

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It is with some violation of the imagination that we conceive of an actor belonging to the relations of private life, so closely do we identify these persons in our mind with the characters which they assume upon the stage.
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Oh call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold.
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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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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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Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.
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A poor relation—is the most irrelevant thing in nature.
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I know that a sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature?but the prettier the kind of a thing is, the more desirable it is that it should be pretty of its kind.
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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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Pain is life - the sharper, the more evidence of life.
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No woman dresses below herself from mere caprice.
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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.
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Gone before To that unknown and silent shore.
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You look wise, pray correct that error.
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To pile up honey upon sugar, and sugar upon honey, to an interminable tedious sweetness.
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Shakespeare is one of the last books one should like to give up, perhaps the one just before the Dying Service in a large Prayer book.
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Literature is a bad crutch, but a good walking-stick.
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If dirt were trumps, what hands you would hold!
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The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion.
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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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The measure of choosing well, is, whether a man likes and finds good in what he has chosen.
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