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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
Author
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Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Social Critic
Writer
Landport
Hampshire
Dickens
C.Dickens
Charles John Huffam Dickens
Boz
Death
Affection
Beautiful
Deeds
Human
Charity
Humans
Mercy
Purified
Even
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Dusty
Much
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Would
Growth
Graves
Seen
Appear

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If I may so express it, I was steeped in Dora. I was not merely over head and ears in love with her, but I was saturated through and through. Enough love might have been wrung out of me, metaphorically speaking, to drown anybody in and yet there would have remained enough within me, and all over me, to pervade my entire existence.
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I'll tell you, said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper, what real love it. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter - as I did!
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But tears were not the things to find their way to Mr. Bumble’s soul his heart was waterproof. Like washable beaver hats that improve with rain, his nerves were rendered stouter and more vigorous, by showers of tears, which, being tokens of weakness, and so far tacit admissions of his own power, pleased and exalted him.
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Why should I disguise what you know so well, but what the crowd never dream of? We companies are all birds of prey mere birds of prey. The only question is, whether in serving our own turn, we can serve yours too whether in double-lining our own nest, we can put a single living into yours.
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Regrets are the natural property of grey hairs.
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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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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.
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The New Year, like an Infant Heir to the whole world, was waited for, with welcomes, presents, and rejoicings.
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Them which is of other naturs thinks different.
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Repression is the only lasting philosophy. The dark deference of fear and slavery, my friend, will keep the dogs obedient to the whip, as long as this roof shuts out the sky.
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My advice is to never do tomorrow what you can do today. Procrastination is the thief of time.
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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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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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Up the two terrace flights of steps the rain ran wildly, and beat at the great door, like a swift messenger rousing those within.
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The night crept on apace, the moon went down, the stars grew pale and dim, and morning, cold as they, slowly approached. Then, from behind a distant hill, the noble sun rose up, driving the mists in phantom shapes before it, and clearing the earth of their ghostly forms till darkness came again.
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He describes it as a large apartment, with a red brick floor and a capacious chimney the ceiling garnished with hams, sides of bacon, and ropes of onions.
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A child! said Edith, looking at her. When was I a child? What childhood did you ever leave to me? I was a woman - artful, designing, mercenary, laying snares for men - before I knew myself, or you, or even understood the base and wretched aim of every new display I learnt. You gave birth to a woman. Look upon her. She is in her pride tonight
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If Husain (as) had fought to quench his worldly desires…then I do not understand why his sister, wife, and children accompanied him. It stands to reason therefore, that he sacrificed purely for Islam.
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The jovial party broke up next morning. Breakings-up are capital things in our school-days, but in after life they are painful enough. Death, self-interest, and fortune's changes, are every day breaking up many a happy group, and scattering them far and wide and the boys and girls never come back again.
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Fledgeby deserved Mr. Alfred Lammle's eulogium. He was the meanest cur existing, with a single pair of legs. And instinct (a word we all clearly understand) going largely on four legs, and reason always on two, meanness on four legs never attains the perfection of meanness on two.
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