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When we have done our very, very best, papa, and that is not enough, then I think the right time must have come for asking help of others.

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
Thinking
Best
Come
Done
Enough
Papa
Right
Asking
Must
Help
Time
Helping
Think
Others

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Change begets change.
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Listlessness to everything, but brooding sorrow, was the night that fell on my undisciplined heart. Let me look up from it - as at last I did, thank Heaven! - and from its long, sad, wretched dream, to dawn.
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Them which is of other naturs thinks different.
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Her heart-is given him, with all its love and truth. She would joyfully die with him, or, better than that, die for him. She knows he has failings, but she thinks they have grown up through his being like one cast away, for the want of something to trust in, and care for, and think well of.
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When I have heard him talking to Papa during the sittings for the picture, I have sat wondering whether it could be that he has no belief in anybody else, because he has no belief in himself.
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A loving heart is the truest wisdom.
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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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Veels vithin veels, a prison in a prison.
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There is nothing so strong or safe in an emergency of life as the simple truth.
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We all have some experience of a feeling, that comes over us occasionally, of what we are saying and doing having been said and done before, in a remote time - of our having been surrounded, dim ages ago, by the same faces, objects, and circumstances.
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You have no idea what it is to have anybody wonderful fond of you, unless you have been got down and rolled upon by the lonely feelings that I have mentioned as having once got the better of me.
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She had curiously thoughtful and attentive eyes eyes that were very pretty and very good.
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The town was glad with morning light places that had shown ugly and distrustful all night long, now wore a smile and sparkling sunbeams dancing on chamber windows, and twinkling through blind and curtain before sleepers’ eyes, shed light even into dreams, and chased away the shadows of the night.
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There are strings, said Mr. Tappertit, flourishing his bread-and-cheese knife in the air, in the human heart that had better not be wibrated...
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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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The sum of the whole is this: walk and b« happy! walk and be healthy. The best of all ways to lengthen ourdays, is notas Mr. Thomas Moore has it, ]To steal a few hours from night, my love but with leave, be it spoken, to walk steadily and with a purpose.
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Circumstances beyond my individual control.
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Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.
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And O there are days in this life, worth life and worth death.
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