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It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.
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
Do not close your heart against all my efforts to help you.
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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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Let us be moral. Let us contemplate existence.
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It is known, to the force of a single pound weight, what the engine will do but, not all the calculators of the National Debt can tell me the capacity for good or evil, for love or hatred, for patriotism or discontent, for the decomposition of virtue into vice, or the reverse.
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There are strings in the human heart that had better not be vibrated.
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Old Marley was dead as a doornail... The wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile.
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Around and around the house the leaves fall thick, but never fast, for they come circling down with a dead lightness that is sombre and slow.
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Don't you think that any secret course is an unworthy one?
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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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I think the Romans must have aggravated one another very much, with their noses. Perhaps, they became the restless people they were, in consequence.
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A multitude of people and yet solitude.
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It had grown darker as they talked, and the wind was sawing and the sawdust was whirling outside paler windows. The underlying churchyard was already settling into deep dim shade, and the shade was creeping up to the housetops among which they sat. As if, said Eugene, as if the churchyard ghosts were rising.
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Dumb as a drum vith a hole in it, sir.
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It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humour.
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I could settle down into a state of equable low spirits, and resign myself to coffee.
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'Tis love that makes the world go round, my baby.
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It was the momentary yielding of a nature that had been disappointed from the dawn of its perceptions, but had not quite given up all its hopeful yearnings yet.
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It was a dagger in the haughty father's heart, an arrow in his brain, to see how the flesh and blood he could not disown clung to this obscure stranger, and he sitting by. Not that he cared to whom his daughter turned, or from whom turned away. The swift sharp agony struck through him, as he thought of what his son might do.
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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.
Charles Dickens
You are in every line I have ever read.
Charles Dickens
