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Then I'm sorry to say, I've eat your pie.

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
Pie
Sorry

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Others had been a little wild, which was not to be wondered at, and not very blamable but, he had made a lamentation and uproar which it was dangerous for the people to hear, as there is always contagion in weakness and selfishness.
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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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Veels vithin veels, a prison in a prison.
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The heavy rain beat down the tender branches of vine and jessamine, and trampled on them in its fury and when the lightning gleamed, it showed the tearful leaves shivering and cowering together at the window, and tapping at it urgently, as if beseeching to be sheltered from the dismal night.
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and, unlike the celebrated herd in the poem, they were not forty children conducting themselves as one, but every child was conducting itself like forty.
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Have I yet to learn that the hardest and best-borne trials are those which are never chronicled in any earthly record, and are suffered every day!
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I only ask for information.
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A good thing can't be cruel.
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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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Pride is one of the seven deadly sins but it cannot be the pride of a mother in her children, for that is a compound of two cardinal virtues - faith and hope.
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What is your best, your very best, ale a glass? Two pence halfpenny, says the landlord, is the price of the Genuine Stunning Ale. Then, says I, producing the money, just draw me a glass of the Genuine Stunning, if you please, with a good head on it.
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There are hopes, the bloom of whose beauty would be spoiled by the trammels of description too lovely, too delicate, too sacred for words, they should only be known through the sympathy of hearts.
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Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
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I went away, dear Agnes, loving you. I stayed away, loving you. I returned home, loving you!
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The rippling of the river seemed to cause a correspondent stir in his uneasy reflections. He would have laid them asleep if he could, but they were in movement, like the stream, and all tending one way with a strong current.
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Once a gentleman, and always a gentleman.
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When I have heard him talking to Papa during the sittings for the picture, I have sat wondering whether it could be that he has no belief in anybody else, because he has no belief in himself.
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The rich, sweet smell of the hayricks rose to his chamber window the hundred perfumes of the little flower-garden beneath scented the air around the deep-green meadows shone in the morning dew that glistened on every leaf as it trembled in the gentle air: and the birds sang as if every sparkling drop were a fountain of inspiration to them.
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