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The ocean asks for nothing but those who stand by her shores gradually attune themselves to her rhythm.

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
Ocean
Stand
Asks
Nothing
Attune
Shores
Gradually
Shore
Rhythm

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All the housemaid hopes is, happiness for 'em - but marriage is a lottery, and the more she thinks about it, the more she feels the independence and the safety of a single life.
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Then idiots talk, said Eugene, leaning back, folding his arms, smoking with his eyes shut, and speaking slightly through his nose, of Energy. If there is a word in the dictionary under any letter from A to Z that I abominate, it is energy.
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It is a silent, shady place, with a paved courtyard so full of echoes, that sometimes I am tempted to believe that faint responses to the noises of old times linger there yet, and that these ghosts of sound haunt my footsteps as I pace it up and down.
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All partings foreshadow the great final one.
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Good never come of such evil, a happier end was not in nature to so unhappy a beginning.
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-Why don't you cry again, you little wretch? -Because I'll never cry for you again.
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Christmas is a time in which, of all times in the year, the memory of every remediable sorrow, wrong, and trouble in the world around us, should be active with us, not less than our own experiences, for all good.
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Great men are seldom over-scrupulous in the arrangement of their attire.
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The universe, he observed, makes rather an indifferent parent, I am afraid.
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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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Opening her eyes again, and seeing her husband's face across the table, she leaned forward to give it a pat on the cheek, and sat down to supper, declaring it to be the best face in the world.
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Your tale is of the longest, observed Monks, moving restlessly in his chair. It is a true tale of grief and trial, and sorrow, young man, returned Mr. Brownlow, and such tales usually are if it were one of unmixed joy and happiness, it would be very brief.
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It is a most miserable thing to feel ashamed of home.
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All I would say is, that I can go abroad without your family coming forward to favour me, - in short, with a parting Shove of their cold shoulders and that, upon the whole, I would rather leave England with such impetus as I possess, than derive any acceleration of it from that quarter.
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For the night-wind has a dismal trick of wandering round and round a building of that sort, and moaning as it goes and of trying, with its unseen hand, the windows and the doors and seeking out some crevices by which to enter.
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The rich, sweet smell of the hayricks rose to his chamber window the hundred perfumes of the little flower-garden beneath scented the air around the deep-green meadows shone in the morning dew that glistened on every leaf as it trembled in the gentle air: and the birds sang as if every sparkling drop were a fountain of inspiration to them.
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Christmas a humbug, uncle! said Scrooge's nephew. You don't mean that, I am sure? I do, said Scrooge. Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? what reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.
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There is a wisdom of the head, and a wisdom of the heart.
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The dew seemed to sparkle more brightly on the green leaves the air to rustle among them with a sweeter music and the sky itself to look more blue and bright. Such is the influence which the condition of our own thoughts, exercise, even over the appearance of external objects.
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