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Its matter was not new to me, but was presented in a new aspect. It shook me in my habit - the habit of nine-tenths of the world - of believing that all was right about me, because I was used to it.

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
Nine
Aspect
Habit
Used
Matter
Tenths
Right
Shook
Believe
Presented
World
Believing

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Women can always put things in fewest words. Except when it's blowing up and then they lengthens it out.
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We must leave the discovery of this mystery, like all others, to time, and accident, and Heaven's pleasure.
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Heaven suits the back to the burden.
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Keep up appearances whatever you do.
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'There may be some, perhaps - I don't know that there are - who abuse his kindness,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'Never be one of those, Trotwood, in anything. He is the least suspicious of mankind and whether that's a merit, or whether it's a blemish, it deserves consideration in all dealings with the Doctor, great or small.
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Some happy talent, and some fortunate opportunity, may form the two sides of the ladder on which some men mount, but the rounds of that ladder must be made of stuff to stand wear and tear and there is no substitute for thorough-going, ardent, and sincere earnestness.
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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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Do not repine, my friends, said Mr. Pecksniff, tenderly. Do not weep for me. It is chronic.
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How beautiful you are! You are more beautiful in anger than in repose. I don't ask you for your love give me yourself and your hatred give me yourself and that pretty rage give me yourself and that enchanting scorn it will be enough for me.
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Annual income is £ 20, the cost is 19, you will feel happiness. If annual income of £ 20, the cost is £ 20.6, you will see suffering
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It was the momentary yielding of a nature that had been disappointed from the dawn of its perceptions, but had not quite given up all its hopeful yearnings yet.
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Without strong affection, and humanity of heart, and gratitude to that Being whose code is mercy, and whose great attribute is benevolence to all things that breathe, true happiness can never be attained.
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I am a neat hand at cookery, and I'll tell you what I knocked up for my Christmas-eve dinner in the Library Cart. I knocked up a beefsteak-pudding for one, with two kidneys, a dozen oysters, and a couple of mushrooms thrown in. It's a pudding to put a man in good humour with everything, except the two bottom buttons of his waistcoat.
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The coffee was boiling over a charcoal fire, and large slices of bread and butter were piled one upon the other like deals in a lumber yard.
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It is a most miserable thing to feel ashamed of home.
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I only ask to be free. The butterflies are free. Mankind will surely not deny to Harold Skimpole what it concedes to the butterflies.
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There is probably a smell of roasted chestnuts and other good comfortable things all the time, for we are telling Winter Stories - Ghost Stories, or more shame for us - round the Christmas fire and we have never stirred, except to draw a little nearer to it.
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Yet, I had nothing else to tell unless, indeed, I were to confess (which might be of less moment still), that no one can ever believe this Narrative, in the reading, more than I believed it in the writing.
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Night, like a giant, fills the church, from pavement to roof, and holds dominion through the silent hours. Pale dawn again comes peeping through the windows: and, giving place to day, sees night withdraw into the vaults, and follows it, and drives it out, and hides among the dead.
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Can you suppose there's any harm in looking as cheerful and being as cheerful as our poor circumstances will permit?
Charles Dickens