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Tongue well that's a wery good thing when it an't a woman.

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
Wells
Well
Thing
Good
Tongue
Woman

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Drink with me, my dear, said Mr. Weller. Put your lips to this here tumbler, and then I can kiss you by deputy.
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Meow says the cat ,quack says the duck , Bow wow wow says the dog ! Grrrr!
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I looked at the stars, and considered how awful it would be for a man to turn his face up to them as he froze to death, and see no help or pity in all the glittering multitude.
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Death is a mighty, universal truth.
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When the time comes, let loose a tiger and a devil but wait for the time with the tiger and the devil chained -not shown- yet always ready.
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He was sailing over a boundless expanse of sea, with a blood-red sky above, and the angry waters, lashed into fury beneath, boiling and eddying up, on every side. There was another vessel before them, toiling and labouring in the howling storm: her canvas fluttering in ribbons from the mast.
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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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At the great iron gate of the churchyard he stopped and looked in. He looked up at the high tower spectrally resisting the wind, and he looked round at the white tombstones, like enough to the dead in their winding-sheets, and he counted the nine tolls of the clock-bell.
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Detestation of the high is the involuntary homage of the low.
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If the parks be the lungs of London we wonder what Greenwich Fair is--a periodical breaking out, we suppose--a sort of spring rash.
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Strong mental agitation and disturbance was no novelty to him, even before his late sufferings. It never is, to obstinate and sullen natures for they struggle hard to be such.
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She writhes under her life. A woman more angry, passionate, reckless, and revengeful never lived.
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From the days when it was always summer in Eden, to these days when it is mostly winter in fallen latitudes, the world of a man has invariably gone one way Charles Darnay's way the way of the love of a woman
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You are hard at work madam , said the man near her. Yes, Answered Madam Defarge I have a good deal to do. What do you make, Madam ? Many things. For instance --- For instance, returned Madam Defarge , composedly , Shrouds. The man moved a little further away, as soon as he could, feeling it mightily close and oppressive .
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May not the complaint, that common people are above their station, often take its rise in the fact of uncommon people being below theirs?
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Then what can you want to do now? said the old lady,gaining courage. I wants to make your flesh creep, replied the boy.
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We must scrunch or be scrunched.
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I recollected one story there was in the village, how that on a certain night in the year (it might be that very night for anything I knew), all the dead people came out of the ground and sat at the heads of their own graves till morning.
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I can never close my lips where I have opened my heart
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