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I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress, and like the flowers, and had no brightness left but the brightness of her sunken eyes.
Charles Dickens
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Charles Dickens
Age: 58 †
Born: 1812
Born: February 7
Died: 1870
Died: June 9
Author
Editor
Journalist
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Playwright
Social Critic
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Landport
Hampshire
Dickens
C.Dickens
Charles John Huffam Dickens
Boz
Saws
Bride
Eyes
Brides
Within
Brightness
Eye
Flowers
Left
Dress
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Sunken
Scary
Bridal
Flower
Withered
More quotes by Charles Dickens
Ah, Miss Harriet, it would do us no harm to remember oftener than we do, that vices are sometimes only virtues carried to excess!
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If I could not walk far and fast, I think I should just explode and perish.
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There are many pleasant fictions of the law in constant operation, but there is not one so pleasant or practically humorous as that which supposes every man to be of equal value in its impartial eye, and the benefits of all laws to be equally attainable by all men, without the smallest reference to the furniture of their pockets.
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There was a little plate of hothouse nectarines on the table, and there was another of grapes, and another of sponge-cakes, and there was a bottle of light wine ... 'This is my frugal breakfast ... Give me my peach, my cup of coffee, and my claret.'
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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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Their demeanor is invariably morose, sullen, clownish and repulsive. I should think there is not, on the face of the earth, a people so entirely destitute of humor, vivacity, or the capacity for enjoyment.
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Mr. Tulkinghorn, sitting in the twilight by the open window, enjoys his wine. As if it whispered to him of its fifty years of silence and seclusion, it shuts him up the closer. More impenetrable than ever, he sits, and drinks, and mellows as it were in secrecy, pondering at that twilight hour on all the mysteries he knows.
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Why should I disguise what you know so well, but what the crowd never dream of? We companies are all birds of prey mere birds of prey. The only question is, whether in serving our own turn, we can serve yours too whether in double-lining our own nest, we can put a single living into yours.
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[S]he stood for some moments gazing at the sisters, with affection beaming in one eye, and calculation shining out of the other.
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I had seen the damp lying on the outside of my little window, as if some goblin had been crying there all night, and using the window for a pocket-handkerchief.
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Do not repine, my friends, said Mr. Pecksniff, tenderly. Do not weep for me. It is chronic.
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He has the power to render us happy or unhappy to make our service light or burdensome a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count 'em up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.
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Mankind was my business... charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence, were all my business.
Charles Dickens
Old Time, that greatest and longest established spinner of all!... his factory is a secret place, his work is noiseless, and his Hands are mutes.
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Every failure teaches a man something, if he will learn and you are too sensible a man not to learn from this failure.
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It will be your duty, and it will be your pleasure too to estimate her (as you chose her) by the qualities that she has, and not by the qualities she may not have.
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There are very few moments in a man's existence when he experiences so much ludicrous distress, or meets with so little charitable commiseration, as when he is in pursuit of his own hat.
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Come, let's be a comfortable couple and take care of each other! How glad we shall be, that we have somebody we are fond of always, to talk to and sit with.
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Scattered wits take a long time in picking up.
Charles Dickens
It was understood that nothing of a tender nature could possibly be confided to old Barley, by reason of his being totally unequal to the consideration of any subject more psychological than gout, rum, and purser's stores.
Charles Dickens