Presents, I often say, endear absents.

May my last breath be drawn through a pipe, and exhaled in a jest.

Books think for me. I can read anything which I call a book.

For God's sake (I never was more serious) don't make me ridiculous any more by terming me gentle-hearted in print.

A man may do very well with a very little knowledge, and scarce be found out in mixed company; everybody is so much more ready to produce his own, than to call for a display of your acquisitions.

Satire does not look pretty upon a tombstone.

Returning to town in the stage-coach, which was filled with Mr. Gilman's guests, we stopped for a minute or two at Kentish Town. A woman asked the coachman, "Are you full inside?" Upon which Lamb put his head through the window and said, "I am quite full inside; that last piece of pudding at Mr. Gilman's did the business for me."