Charles Lamb Quotes - Page 9

Shut not thy purse-strings always against painted distress.

He might have proved a useful adjunct, if not an ornament to society.

When I consider how little of a rarity children are -- that every street and blind alley swarms with them -- that the poorest people commonly have them in most abundance -- that there are few marriages that are not blest with at least one of these bargains -- how often they turn out ill, and defeat the fond hopes of their parents, taking to vicious courses, which end in poverty, disgrace, the gallows, etc. -- I cannot for my life tell what cause for pride there can possibly be in having them.

A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.

When true hearts lie wither'd And fond ones are flown, Oh, who would inhabit This bleak world alone?

The light that lies In woman's eyes.

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see, So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee. As still to the star of its worship, though clouded, The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea, So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded, The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.

Gone before To that unknown and silent shore.

Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid

Mother's love grows by giving.

I give thee all,-I can no more, Though poor the off'ring be; My heart and lute are all the store That I can bring to thee.

Ay, down to the dust with them, slaves as they are! From this hour let the blood in their dastardly veins, That shrunk at the first touch of Liberty's war, Be wasted for tyrants, or stagnate in chains.

We love to chew the cud of a foregone vision; to collect the scattered rays of a brighter phantasm, or act over again, with firmer nerves, the sadder nocturnal tragedies.

By myself walking, To myself talking.

Cultivate simplicity, Coleridge.

New Year's Day is every man's birthday.

An album is a garden, not for show Planted, but use; where wholesome herbs should grow.

The Muses were dumb while Apollo lectured.

A babe is fed with milk and praise.

In the indications of female poverty there can be no disguise. No woman dresses below herself from caprice.

I conceive disgust at these impertinent and misbecoming familiarities inscribed upon your ordinary tombstone.

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!

A pun is not bound by the laws which limit nicer wit. It is a pistol let off at the ear; not a feather to tickle the intellect.

Clap an extinguisher upon your irony if you are unhappily blessed with a vein of it.

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