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O, if the deeds of human creatures could be traced to their source, how beautiful would even death appear for how much charity, mercy, and purified affection would be seen to have their growth in dusty graves!
Charles Dickens
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Charles Dickens
Age: 58 †
Born: 1812
Born: February 7
Died: 1870
Died: June 9
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Hampshire
Dickens
C.Dickens
Charles John Huffam Dickens
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Old Marley was dead as a doornail... The wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile.
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Mankind was my business... charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence, were all my business.
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There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor.
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The meagre lighthouse all in white, haunting the seaboard, as if it were the ghost of an edifice that had once had colour and rotundity, dripped melancholy tears after its late buffeting by the waves.
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She forgot to be shy at the moment, in honestly warning him away from the sunken wreck he had a dream of raising and looked at him with eyes which assuredly, in association with her patient face, her fragile figure, her spare dress, and the wind and rain, did not turn him from his purpose of helping her.
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There was not one straight floor from the foundation to the roof the ceilings were so fantastically clouded by smoke and dust, that old women might have told fortunes in them better than in grouts of tea.
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Them which is of other naturs thinks different.
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Every man, however obscure, however far removed from the general recognition, is one of a group of men impressible for good, and impressible for evil, and it is in the nature of things that he cannot really improve himself without in some degree improving other men.
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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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Other sound than the owl's voice there was none, save the falling of a fountain into its stone basin for, it was one of those dark nights that hold their breath by the hour together, and then heave a long low sigh, and hold their breath again.
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God bless us, every one!
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For nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, it is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress.
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My dear if you could give me a cup of tea to clear my muddle of a head I should better understand your affairs.
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Rattle me out of bed early, set me going, give me as short a time as you like to bolt my meals in, and keep me at it. Keep me always at it, and I'll keep you always at it, you keep somebody else always at it. There you are with the Whole Duty of Man in a commercial country.
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And I am bored to death with it. Bored to death with this place, bored to death with my life, bored to death with myself.
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No space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused
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Long may it remain in this mixed world a question not easy of decision, which is the more beautiful evidence of the Almighty's goodness, the soft white hand formed for the ministrations of sympathy and tenderness, or the rough hard hand which the heart softens, teaches, and guides in a moment.
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Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.
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Let me see you ride a donkey over my green again, and as sure as you have a head upon your shoulders, I'll knock your bonnet off, and tread upon it!
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Of all bad listeners, the worst and most terrible to encounter is the man who is so fond of listening that he wishes to hear, not only your conversation, but that of every other person in the room.
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