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Cows are my passion. What I have ever sighed for has been to retreat to a Swiss farm, and live entirely surrounded by cows - and china.
Charles Dickens
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Charles Dickens
Age: 58 †
Born: 1812
Born: February 7
Died: 1870
Died: June 9
Author
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Journalist
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Landport
Hampshire
Dickens
C.Dickens
Charles John Huffam Dickens
Boz
Passion
Sigh
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Retreat
Ever
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Cows
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Entirely
Swiss
China
Farm
More quotes by Charles Dickens
Never imitate the eccentricities of genius, but toil after it in its truer flights. They are not so easy to follow, but they lead to higher regions.
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Although I am an old man, night is generally my time for walking.
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Any man may be in good spirits and good temper when he's well dressed. There ain't much credit in that.
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Let us leave our old friend in one of those moments of unmixed happiness which, if we seek them, there are ever some, to cheer our transitory existence here. There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast.
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... still his philanthropy was of that gunpowderous sort that the difference between it and animosity was hard to determine.
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The New Testament is the very best book that ever was or ever will be known in the world.
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It was a foggy day in London, and the fog was heavy and dark. Animate London, with smarting eyes and irritated lungs, was blinking, wheezing, and choking inanimate London was a sooty spectre, divided in purpose between being visible and invisible, and so being wholly neither.
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I think it must somewhere be written that the virtues of mothers shall be visited on their children, as well as the sins of their fathers.
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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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Everybody said so. Far be it from me to assert that what everybody says must be true. Everybody is, often, as likely to be wrong as right.
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Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.
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The American woman is a monstrosity.
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O, if the deeds of human creatures could be traced to their source, how beautiful would even death appear for how much charity, mercy, and purified affection would be seen to have their growth in dusty graves!
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We must leave the discovery of this mystery, like all others, to time, and accident, and Heaven's pleasure.
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Let me see you ride a donkey over my green again, and as sure as you have a head upon your shoulders, I'll knock your bonnet off, and tread upon it!
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I found every breath of air, and every scent, and every flower and leaf and blade of grass and every passing cloud, and everything in nature, more beautiful and wonderful to me than I had ever found it yet. This was my first gain from my illness. How little I had lost, when the wide world was so full of delight for me.
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I am well aware that I am the 'umblest person going. . . . My mother is likewise a very 'umble person. We live in a 'umble abode.
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You fear the world too much,' she answered gently. 'All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off, one by one, until the master passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?
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All I would say is, that I can go abroad without your family coming forward to favour me, - in short, with a parting Shove of their cold shoulders and that, upon the whole, I would rather leave England with such impetus as I possess, than derive any acceleration of it from that quarter.
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Spite is a little word, but it represents as strange a jumble of feelings and compound of discords, as any polysyllable in the language.
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