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A day wasted on others is not wasted on one's self.

Charles Dickens

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Charles Dickens
Age: 58 †
Born: 1812
Born: February 7
Died: 1870
Died: June 9
Author
Editor
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Social Critic
Writer
Landport
Hampshire
Dickens
C.Dickens
Charles John Huffam Dickens
Boz
Wasted
Happiness
Funny
Family
Others
Self
Time
Love

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It is because I think so much of warm and sensitive hearts, that I would spare them from being wounded.
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I was always treated as if I had insisted on being born, in opposition to the dictates of reason, religion, and morality, and against the dissuadinig arguments of my best friends.
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Everything that Mr Smallweed's grandfather ever put away in his mind was a grub at first, and is a grub at last. In all his life he has never bred a single butterfly.
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There seems a magic in the very name of Christmas.
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There is no deception now, Mr. Weller. Tears, said Job, with a look of momentary slyness, tears are not the only proofs of distress, nor the best ones.
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Ah, Miss, hope is an excellent thing for such as has the spirits to bear it! said Mrs Wickam, shaking her head. My own spirits is not equal to it, but I don't owe it any grudge. I envys them that is so blest!
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This reminds me, Godmother, to ask you a serious question. You are as wise as wise can be (having been brought up by the fairies), and you can tell me this: Is it better to have had a good thing and lost it, or never to have had it?
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... when the locked door opens, and there comes in a young woman, deadly pale, and with long fair hair, who glides to the fire, and sits down in the chair we have left there, wringing her hands.
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Mr. Tulkinghorn, sitting in the twilight by the open window, enjoys his wine. As if it whispered to him of its fifty years of silence and seclusion, it shuts him up the closer. More impenetrable than ever, he sits, and drinks, and mellows as it were in secrecy, pondering at that twilight hour on all the mysteries he knows.
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There was a piece of ornamental water immediately below the parapet, on the other side, into which Mr. James Harthouse had a very strong inclination to pitch Mr. Thomas Gradgrind Junior.
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I know enough of the world now to have almost lost the capacity of being much surprised by anything
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Listlessness to everything, but brooding sorrow, was the night that fell on my undisciplined heart. Let me look up from it - as at last I did, thank Heaven! - and from its long, sad, wretched dream, to dawn.
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Other sound than the owl's voice there was none, save the falling of a fountain into its stone basin for, it was one of those dark nights that hold their breath by the hour together, and then heave a long low sigh, and hold their breath again.
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Women can always put things in fewest words. Except when it's blowing up and then they lengthens it out.
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There is probably a smell of roasted chestnuts and other good comfortable things all the time, for we are telling Winter Stories - Ghost Stories, or more shame for us - round the Christmas fire and we have never stirred, except to draw a little nearer to it.
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We need never be ashamed of our tears.
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Without strong affection, and humanity of heart, and gratitude to that Being whose code is mercy, and whose great attribute is benevolence to all things that breathe, true happiness can never be attained.
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It is required of every man, the ghost returned, that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide and, if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death.
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Home is a word stronger than a magician ever spoke.
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