“Rather was it not a series of seven uneasy days, spent in restless pursuit of pleasure, and a wearisome anxiety to find out how to make the most of them? Where was the quiet, where the promised rest?” — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
Reader, if you are gifted with nerves like mine, aspire to any character but that of a wit. — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
In the indications of female poverty there can be no disguise. No woman dresses below herself from caprice. — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
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. — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
“I love to lose myself in other men's minds. When I am not walking, I am reading.” — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
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 Copy Share Image
Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity. — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
Here cometh April again, and as far as I can see the world hath more fools in it than ever. — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
A presentation copy...is a copy of a book whoch does not sell, sent you by the author, with his foolish autograph at the beginning… — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
Nothing to me is more distasteful than that entire complacency and satisfaction which beam in the countenances of a new married couple; in that… — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I… — Charles Lamb Copy Share Image
