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For nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, it is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress.
Charles Dickens
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Charles Dickens
Age: 58 †
Born: 1812
Born: February 7
Died: 1870
Died: June 9
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Charles John Huffam Dickens
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More quotes by Charles Dickens
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 know enough of the world now to have almost lost the capacity of being much surprised by anything
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All other swindlers upon earth are nothing to the self-swindlers, and with such pretences did I cheat myself. Surely a curious thing. That I should innocently take a bad half-crown of somebody else's manufacture, is reasonable enough but that I should knowingly reckon the spurious coin of my own make, as good money!
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As he glided stealthily along, creeping beneath the shelter of the walls and doorways, the hideous old man seemed like some loathsome reptile, engendered in the slime and darkness through which he moved: crawling forth, by night, in search of some rich offal for a meal.
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It was the beginning of a day in June the deep blue sky unsullied by a cloud, and teeming with brilliant light. The streets were, as yet, nearly free from passengers, the houses and shops were closed, and the healthy air of morning fell like breath from angels, on the sleeping town.
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In seasons of pestilence, some of us will have a secret attraction to the disease--a terrible passing inclination to die of it.
Charles Dickens
One disagreeable result of whispering is that it seems to evoke an atmosphere of silence, haunted by the ghosts of sound - strange cracks and tickings, the rustling of garments that have no substance in them, and the tread of dreadful feet that would leave no mark on the sea-sand or the winter snow.
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The blossom is blighted, the leaf is withered, the God of day goes down upon the dreary scene, and in short you are for ever floored.
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It's nothing, returned Mrs Chick. It's merely change of weather. We must expect change.
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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.
Charles Dickens
And O there are days in this life, worth life and worth death.
Charles Dickens
Christmas a humbug, uncle! said Scrooge's nephew. You don't mean that, I am sure? I do, said Scrooge. Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? what reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.
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The age of chivalry is past. Bores have succeeded to dragons.
Charles Dickens
A child! said Edith, looking at her. When was I a child? What childhood did you ever leave to me? I was a woman - artful, designing, mercenary, laying snares for men - before I knew myself, or you, or even understood the base and wretched aim of every new display I learnt. You gave birth to a woman. Look upon her. She is in her pride tonight
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But I am sure that I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round...as a good time a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely.
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There wasn't room to swing a cat there.
Charles Dickens
The very dogs were all asleep, and the flies, drunk with moist sugar in the grocer's shop, forgot their wings and briskness, and baked to death in dusty corners of the window.
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An observer of men who finds himself steadily repelled by some apparently trifling thing in a stranger is right to give it great weight. It may be the clue to the whole mystery. A hair or two will show where a lion is hidden. A very little key will open a very heavy door.
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I will live in the past, the present, and the future. The spirits of all three shall strive within me.
Charles Dickens
I want to escape from myself. For when I do start up and stare myself seedily in the face, as happens to be my case at present, my blankness is inconceivable--indescribable--my misery amazing.
Charles Dickens
