I cannot sit and think; books think for me.

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

Dr Parr...asked him, how he had acquired his power of smoking at such a rate? Lamb replied, 'I toiled after it, sir, as some men toil after virtue.'

No one ever regarded the first of January with indifference.

Is the world all grown up? Is childhood dead? Or is there not in the bosom of the wisest and the best some of the child's heart left, to respond to its earliest enchantments?

This very night I am going to leave off tobacco! Surely there must be some other world in which this unconquerable purpose shall be realised.

The most mortifying infirmity in human nature, to feel in ourselves, or to contemplate in another, is perhaps cowardice.