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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.
Charles Dickens
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Charles Dickens
Age: 58 †
Born: 1812
Born: February 7
Died: 1870
Died: June 9
Author
Editor
Journalist
Novelist
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Social Critic
Writer
Landport
Hampshire
Dickens
C.Dickens
Charles John Huffam Dickens
Boz
Around
Slow
Come
Leaves
Never
Scary
Fast
Sombre
Dead
Circling
Fall
Somber
House
Lightness
Nature
Thick
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You are in every line I have ever read.
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Spring is the time of year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade.
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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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... It is not my desire to wound the feelings of any person with whom I am connected in family bonds. I may be a hypocrite, said Mr. Pecksniff, cuttingly, but I am not a brute.
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Why, what I may think after dinner, returns Mr. Jobling, is one thing, my dear Guppy, and what I may think before dinner is another thing.
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Never, never, before Heaven, have I thought of you but as the single, bright, pure, blessed recollection of my boyhood and my youth. Never have I from the first, and never shall I to the last, regard your part in my life, but as something sacred, never to be lightly thought of, never to be esteemed enough, never, until death, to be forgotten.
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Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.
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Your tale is of the longest, observed Monks, moving restlessly in his chair. It is a true tale of grief and trial, and sorrow, young man, returned Mr. Brownlow, and such tales usually are if it were one of unmixed joy and happiness, it would be very brief.
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The broken heart. You think you will die, but you just keep living, day after day after terrible day.
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... Treachery don't come natural to beaming youth but trust and pity, love and constancy,-they do, thank God!
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Eccentricities of genius.
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Let us be moral. Let us contemplate existence.
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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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What are the odds so long as the fire of the soul is kindled at the taper of conviviality, and the wing of friendship never molts a feather?
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Polly put the kettle on, we'll all have tea.
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So, throughout life, our worst weaknesses and meannesses are usually committed for the sake of the people whom we most despise.
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