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I was a blacksmith's boy but yesterday I am - what shall I say I am today?
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
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Landport
Hampshire
Dickens
C.Dickens
Charles John Huffam Dickens
Boz
Blacksmith
Blacksmiths
Yesterday
Boys
Shall
Today
More quotes by Charles Dickens
You touch some of the reasons for my going, not for my staying away.
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It always grieves me to contemplate the initiation of children into the ways of life when they are scarcely more than infants. It checks their confidence and simplicity, two of the best qualities that heaven gives them, and demands that they share our sorrows before they are capable of entering into our enjoyments.
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I can never close my lips where I have opened my heart
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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.
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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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Never, never, before Heaven, have I thought of you but as the single, bright, pure, blessed recollection of my boyhood and my youth. Never have I from the first, and never shall I to the last, regard your part in my life, but as something sacred, never to be lightly thought of, never to be esteemed enough, never, until death, to be forgotten.
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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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The haggard aspect of the little old man was wonderfully suited to the place he might have groped among old churches and tombs and deserted houses and gathered all the spoils with his own hands. There was nothing in the whole collection but was in keeping with himself nothing that looked older or more worn than he.
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Then I'm sorry to say, I've eat your pie.
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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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A new heart for a New Year, always!
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Oh the nerves, the nerves the mysteries of this machine called man! Oh the little that unhinges it, poor creatures that we are!
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She's the sort of woman now,' said Mould, . . . 'one would almost feel disposed to bury for nothing: and do it neatly, too!
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Are you thankful for not being young?' 'Yes, sir. If I was young, it would all have to be gone through again, and the end would be a weary way off, don't you see?
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Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.
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If I could not walk far and fast, I think I should just explode and perish.
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What are the odds so long as the fire of the soul is kindled at the taper of conviviality, and the wing of friendship never molts a feather?
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Hallo! A great deal of steam! the pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the pudding.
Charles Dickens