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[I]t seemed as if the streets were absorbed by the sky, and the night were all in the air.

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
Night
Absorbed
Seemed
Sky
Air
Streets

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Christmas time! That man must be a misanthrope indeed, in whose breast something like a jovial feeling is not roused - in whose mind some pleasant associations are not awakened - by the recurrence of Christmas.
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... as lonesome as a kitten in a wash-house copper with the lid on.
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-Why don't you cry again, you little wretch? -Because I'll never cry for you again.
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It is a most miserable thing to feel ashamed of home.
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I must do something or I shall wear my heart away.
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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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Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.
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Well, said my aunt, this is his boy - his son. He would be as like his father as it's possible to be, if he was not so like his mother, too.
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Dickens writes that an event, began to be forgotten, as most affairs are, when wonder, having no fresh food to support it, dies away of itself.
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It is when our budding hopes are nipped beyond recovery by some rough wind, that we are the most disposed to picture to ourselves what flowers they might have borne, if they had flourished . . .
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The wind's in the east. . . . I am always conscious of an uncomfortable sensation now and then when the wind is blowing in the east.
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It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
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The man who now confronted Gashford, was a squat, thickset personage, with a low, retreating forehead, a coarse shock head of hair, and eyes so small and near together, that his broken nose alone seemed to prevent their meeting and fusing into one of the usual size.
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Prowling about the rooms, sitting down, getting up, stirring the fire, looking out the window, teasing my hair, sitting down to write, writing nothing, writing something and tearing it up...
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A man can well afford to be as bold as brass, my good fellow, when he gets gold in exchange!
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