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Spring is the time of year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade.

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
Winter
Summer
Sun
Spring
Year
Years
Time
Shade

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This is the even-handed dealing of the world! he said. There is noth-ing on which it is so hard as poverty and there is nothing it professes tocondemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth!
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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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A word in earnest is as good as a speech.
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The cloud of caring for nothing, which overshadowed him with such a fatal darkness, was very rarely pierced by the light within him.
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Oh Agnes, Oh my soul, so may thy face be by me when I close my life indeed so may I, when realities are melting from me, like the shadows which I now dismiss, still find thee near me, pointing upward!
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Anything that makes a noise is satisfactory to a crowd.
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I have always thought of Christmas time... as a good time a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time.
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Shall we speak of the inspiration of a poet or a priest, and not of the heart impelled by love and self-devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life?
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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
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When you drink of the water, don't forget the spring from which it flows.
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Newman cast a despairing glance at his small store of fuel, but, not having the courage to say no-a word which in all his life he never had said at the right time, either to himself or anyone else-gave way to the proposed arrangement.
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I am at the moment deaf in the ears, hoarse in the throat, red in the nose, green in the gills, damp in the eyes, twitchy in the joints and fractious in temper from a most intolerable and oppressive cold.
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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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And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment.
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. . . in seclusion, she had secluded herself from a thousand natural and healing influences that, her mind, brooding solitary, had grown diseased, as all minds do and must and will that reverse the appointed order of their Maker . . .
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The meagre lighthouse all in white, haunting the seaboard, as if it were the ghost of an edifice that had once had colour and rotundity, dripped melancholy tears after its late buffeting by the waves.
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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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For your popular rumour, unlike the rolling stone of the proverb, is one which gathers a deal of moss in its wanderings up and down.
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The jovial party broke up next morning. Breakings-up are capital things in our school-days, but in after life they are painful enough. Death, self-interest, and fortune's changes, are every day breaking up many a happy group, and scattering them far and wide and the boys and girls never come back again.
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