Quote

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.

Charles Dickens

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

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
Scene
Floored
Goes
Blighted
Upon
Withered
Ever
Dreary
Blossom
Leafs
Leaf
Short
Micawber

More quotes by Charles Dickens

Image
At last, in the dead of the night, when the street was very still indeed, Little Dorrit laid the heavy head upon her bosom, and soothed her to sleep. And thus she sat at the gate, as it were alone looking up at the stars, and seeing the clouds pass over them in their wild flight-which was the dance at Little Dorrit's party.
Charles Dickens
Image
... Treachery don't come natural to beaming youth but trust and pity, love and constancy,-they do, thank God!
Charles Dickens
Image
We changed again, and yet again, and it was now too late and too far to go back, and I went on. And the mists had all solemnly risen now, and the world lay spread before me.
Charles Dickens
Image
Any man may be in good spirits and good temper when he's well dressed. There ain't much credit in that.
Charles Dickens
Image
I had neither the good sense nor the good feeling to know that this was all my fault, and that if I had been easier with Joe, Joe would have been easier with me. I felt impatient of him and out of temper with him in which condition he heaped coals of fire on my head.
Charles Dickens
Image
A multitude of people and yet solitude.
Charles Dickens
Image
Marley was dead, to begin with ... This must be distintly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.
Charles Dickens
Image
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.
Charles Dickens
Image
He was the meekest of his sex, the mildest of little men. He sidled in and out of a room, to take up the less space. He walked as softly as the Ghost in Hamlet, and more slowly. He carried his head on one side, partly in modest depreciation of himself, partly in modest propitiation of everybody else.
Charles Dickens
Image
Ven you read the speeches in the papers, and see as vun gen'lman says of another, 'the Honourable member, if he vill allow me to call him so' you vill understand, sir, that that means, 'if he vill allow me to keep up that 'ere pleasant and uniwersal fiction.'
Charles Dickens
Image
A good thing can't be cruel.
Charles Dickens
Image
There was a gay fiction among us that we were constantly enjoying ourselves, and a skeleton truth that we never did. To the best of my belief, our case was in the last respect a rather common one.
Charles Dickens
Image
I could settle down into a state of equable low spirits, and resign myself to coffee.
Charles Dickens
Image
The year end brings no greater pleasure then the opportunity to express to you season's greetings and good wishes. May your holidays and new year be filled with joy.
Charles Dickens
Image
In fine weather the old gentelman is almost constantly in the garden and when it is too wet to go into it, he will look out the window at it, by the hour together. He has always something to do there, and you will see him digging, and sweeping, and cutting, and planting, with manifest delight.
Charles Dickens
Image
The plain rule is to do nothing in the dark, to be a party to nothing underhanded or mysterious, and never to put his foot where he cannot see the ground.
Charles Dickens
Image
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.
Charles Dickens
Image
Probably every new and eagerly expected garment ever put on since clothes came in, fell a trifle short of the wearer's expectation.
Charles Dickens
Image
The weathercocks on spires and housetops were mysterious with hints of stormy wind, and pointed, like so many ghostly fingers, out to dangerous seas, where fragments of great wrecks were drifting, perhaps, and helpless men were rocked upon them into a sleep as deep as the unfathomable waters.
Charles Dickens
Image
Oh the nerves, the nerves the mysteries of this machine called man! Oh the little that unhinges it, poor creatures that we are!
Charles Dickens