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CHARLES LAMB
(USED PSEUDONYM ELIA)
English essayist and humorist
(1775 - 1834)
 << Prev Page    Displaying page 4 of 4

Hail to thy returning festival, old Bishop Valentine! Great is thy name in the rubric, Thou venerable flamen of Hymen. . . . Like unto thee, assuredly, there is no other mitred father in the calendar.
      - Essays--Valentine's Day [Valentines]

The truant Fancy was a wanderer ever.
      - Fancy employed on Divine Subjects (I, 1)
        [Fancy]

Gone before
  To that unknown and silent shore.
      - Hester (st. 1) [Death]

An album is a garden, not for show
  Planted, but use; where wholesome herbs should grow.
      - In an Album to a Clergyman's Lady
        [Gardens]

If dirt was trumps, what hands you would hold!
      - Lamb's Suppers (vol. II, last chapter)
        [Cleanliness]

Books which are no books.
      - Last Essay of Elia--Detached Thoughts on Books
        [Books]

I love to lose myself in other men's minds.
  When I am not walking, I am reading;
    I cannot sit and think. Books think for me.
      - Last Essays of Elia--Detached Thoughts on Books and Reading
        [Reading]

Half as sober as a judge.
      - Letter to Mr. and Mrs. Maxon [Judges]

A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.
      - Mrs. Battle's Opinions on Whist [Cards]

To pile up honey upon sugar, and sugar upon honey, to an interminable tedious sweetness.
      - On Ears [Sweetness]

For with G.D., to be absent from the body is sometimes (not to speak it profanely) to be present with the Lord.
      - Oxford in the Vacation [Absence]

A babe is fed with milk and praise.
      - The First Tooth,
        in Charles and Mary Lamb's "Poetry for Children"
        [Childhood]

Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by giving:
  Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting!
    Black manhood comes when riotous guilty living
      Hands thee the cup that shall be death in tasting.
      - The Gypsy's Malison,
        a sonnet in a letter to Mrs. Procter
        [Babyhood]

Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
  Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling?
      - The Old Familiar Faces [Friends]

How some they have died, and some they have left me,
  And some are taken from me; all are departed;
    All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
      - The Old Familiar Faces [Face]

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.
      - The Sabbath Bells [Bells]

Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.
      - To V. Novello [Summer]

Who first invented work, and bound the free
  And holyday-rejoicing spirit down . . .
    To that dry drudgery at the desk's dead wood? . . .
      Sabbathless Satan!
      - Work [Work]


Displaying page 4 of 4 for this author:   << Prev  1 2 3 [4]

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