Quote

The white face of the winter day came sluggishly on, veiled in a frosty mist and the shadowy ships in the river slowly changed to black substances and the sun, blood-red on the eastern marshes behind dark masts and yards, seemed filled with the ruins of a forest it had set on fire.

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
Face
Filled
River
Substances
Faces
Behinds
Forests
Mist
White
Behind
Substance
Yards
Sluggishly
Black
Changed
Red
Eastern
Frosty
Nature
Blood
Winter
Forest
Masts
Fire
Rivers
Ruins
Veiled
Came
Seemed
Slowly
Shadowy
Dark
Sun
Ships
Marshes

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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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I am what you designed me to be.I am your blade. You cannot now complain if you also feel the hurt
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Do not repine, my friends, said Mr. Pecksniff, tenderly. Do not weep for me. It is chronic.
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Surprises, like misfortunes, seldom come alone.
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In fine weather the old gentelman is almost constantly in the garden and when it is too wet to go into it, he will look out the window at it, by the hour together. He has always something to do there, and you will see him digging, and sweeping, and cutting, and planting, with manifest delight.
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Madam, replied Mr. Micawber, it is my intention to register such a vow on the virgin page of the future.
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The cloud of caring for nothing, which overshadowed him with such a fatal darkness, was very rarely pierced by the light within him.
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A good thing can't be cruel.
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No one has the least regard for the man with them all, he has been an object of avoidance, suspicion, and aversion but the spark of life within him is curiously separable from himself now, and they have a deep interest in it, probably because it IS life, and they are living and must die.
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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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Your Honour, unless your Honour, without a moment's loss of time, makes sail for the nearest shore, this is a doomed ship, and her name is the Coffin!
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This is the even-handed dealing of the world! he said. There is noth-ing on which it is so hard as poverty and there is nothing it professes tocondemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth!
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... when the locked door opens, and there comes in a young woman, deadly pale, and with long fair hair, who glides to the fire, and sits down in the chair we have left there, wringing her hands.
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'Tis love that makes the world go round, my baby.
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She writhes under her life. A woman more angry, passionate, reckless, and revengeful never lived.
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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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I feel an earnest and humble desire, and shall do till I die, to increase the stock of harmless cheerfulness.
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Friendless I can never be, for all mankind are my kindred, and I am on ill terms with no one member of my great family.
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The law is an ass, an idiot.
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Did it ever strike you on such a morning as this that drowning would be happiness and peace?
Charles Dickens