Charles Lamb: A MemoirRoberts brothers, 1866 - 304 sidor |
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acquaintance admiration affection afterwards amongst antiquity appears Barron Field beautiful became Bernard Barton brother character Charles Lamb Charles Lloyd Christ's Hospital Cole Coleridge Coleridge's death died drama Edward Irving Elia Essays eyes fancies feel fond frequent friendship gave genius George Dyer Godwin hated Hazlitt heard heart Hogarth humor India House Inner Temple intellect intimacy John knew labor Lamb says Lamb writes Lamb's Leigh Hunt letters literature live Lloyd London Magazine manner Mary Lamb melancholy mind Miss Lamb Munden ness never old books old friend once opinions papers perhaps person play pleasant poems poet poetry poor pounds published Quaker reader recollect Rickman Robert Southey Samuel Taylor Coleridge scarcely seems Shakespeare sister sometimes South Sea House Southey speak spirit Street talk taste Temple tender things thought tion truth verse walking whilst William Hazlitt words Wordsworth wrote
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Sida 97 - Her parents held the Quaker rule, Which doth the human feeling cool, But she was train'd in Nature's school, Nature had blest her. A waking eye, a prying mind, A heart that stirs, is hard to bind, A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind, Ye could not Hester. My sprightly neighbour, gone before To that unknown and silent shore, Shall we not meet, as heretofore, Some summer morning...
Sida 71 - Wedgwood (of whom, however, he spoke highly) had expressed a very indifferent opinion of his friend Mr. Wordsworth, on which he remarked to them — "He strides on so far before you that he dwindles in the distance!
Sida 163 - Skiddaw. Still, I turn back to those great places where I wandered about, participating in their greatness. After all, I could not live in Skiddaw. I could spend a year, two, three years among them, but I must have a prospect of seeing Fleet Street at the end of that time, or I should mope and pine away, I know.
Sida 40 - My life has been somewhat diversified of late. The six weeks that finished last year and began this, your very humble servant spent very agreeably in a madhouse, at Hoxton. I am got somewhat rational now, and don't bite any one. But mad I was ; and many a vagary my imagination played with me, enough to make a volume, if all were told.
Sida 113 - I never shall forget ye, how ye lay about that night, like an intrenchment ; gone to bed, as it seemed for the night, but promising that ye were to be seen in the morning.
Sida 45 - My poor dear, dearest sister, the unhappy and unconscious instrument of the Almighty's judgments on our house, is restored to her senses ; to a dreadful sense and recollection of what has past, awful to her mind and impressive (as it must be to the end of life), but tempered with religious resignation and the reasonings of a sound judgment, which, in this early stage, knows how to distinguish...
Sida 28 - I am content to stand still at the age to which I am arrived; I and my friends: to be no younger, no richer, no handsomer. I do not want to be weaned by age; or drop, like mellow fruit, as they say, into the grave. — Any alteration on this earth of mine, in diet or in lodging, puzzles and discomposes me. My household gods plant a terrible fixed foot, and are not rooted up without blood.
Sida 164 - I was born, the furniture which has been before my eyes all my life, a book-case which has followed me about (like a faithful dog, only exceeding him in knowledge), wherever I have moved, old chairs, old tables, streets, squares, where I have sunned myself, my old school, — these are my mistresses.
Sida 278 - Mr. Lamb has a distaste to new faces, to new books, to new buildings, to new customs. He is shy of all imposing appearances, of all assumptions of self-importance, of all adventitious ornaments, of all mechanical advantages, even to a nervous excess. It is not merely that he does not rely upon, or ordinarily avail himself of them; he holds them in abhorrence, he utterly abjures and discards them, and places a great gulph between him and them.
Sida 281 - Lamb himself, the most delightful, the most provoking, the most witty and sensible of men. He always made the best pun, and the best remark in the course of the evening. His serious conversation, like his serious writing, is his best. No one ever stammered out such fine, piquant, deep, eloquent things in half a dozen halfsentences as he does. His jests scald like tears: and he probes a question with a play upon words.