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Shall we speak of the inspiration of a poet or a priest, and not of the heart impelled by love and self-devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life?

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
Shall
Lowliest
Speak
Impelled
Self
Priest
Heart
Priests
Work
Devotion
Way
Humility
Love
Poet
Life
Inspiration

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We forge the chains we wear in life.
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You are in every line I have ever read.
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I love your daughter fondly, dearly, disinterestedly, devotedly. If ever there were love in the world, I love her.
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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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It would have been cruel in Miss Havisham, horribly cruel, to practise on the susceptibility of a poor boy, and to torture me through all these years with a vain hope and an idle pursuit, if she had reflected on the gravity of what she did. But I think she did not. I think that in the endurance of her own trial, she forgot mine, Estella.
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I loved you madly in the distasteful work of the day, in the wakeful misery of the night, girded by sordid realities, or wandering through Paradises and Hells of visions into which I rushed, carrying your image in my arms, I loved you madly.
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You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman.
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...and to-morrow looked in my face more steadily than I could look at it
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Ah, if only I had brought a cigar with me! This would have established my identity.
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He was simply and staunchly true to his duty alike in the large case and in the small. So all true souls ever are. So every true soul ever was, ever is, and ever will be. There is nothing little to the really great in spirit.
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I went away, dear Agnes, loving you. I stayed away, loving you. I returned home, loving you!
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I want to escape from myself. For when I do start up and stare myself seedily in the face, as happens to be my case at present, my blankness is inconceivable--indescribable--my misery amazing.
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