He saw those who had been delicately nurtured, and tenderly brought up, cheerful under privations, and superior to suffering, that would have crushed many of a rougher grain, because they bore within their own bosoms the material of happiness, contentment, and peace.

— Charles Dickens

Charles Dickens Quotes

He was a mere child in the world, but he didn’t cry for the moon.

— Charles Dickens

Night after night, the waves are hoarse with repetition of their mystery; the dust lies piled upon the shore; the sea-birds soar and hover; the winds and clouds are on their trackless flight; the white arms beckon, in the moonlight, to the invisible country far away.

— Charles Dickens

Why should I regret my incapacity for details and worldly affairs, when it leads to such pleasant consequences.

— Charles Dickens

I have sometimes sat alone here of an evening, listening, until I have made the echoes out to be the echoes of all the footsteps that are coming by and by into our lives.

— Charles Dickens

I know it all, I know it all. Be a brave man, my Gaspard! It is better for the poor plaything to die so, than to live. It has died in a moment without pain. Could it have lived an hour as happily?

— Charles Dickens

He saw those who had been delicately nurtured, and tenderly brought up, cheerful under privations, and superior to suffering, that would have crushed many of a rougher grain, because they bore within their own bosoms the material of happiness, contentment, and peace.

— Charles Dickens

If you will hear me through a very little more, all you can ever do for me is done. I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul... A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it.

— Charles Dickens

A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the red coals no harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throw him out of work. Mr. Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just poured out his last glassful of wine with as complete an appearance of satisfaction as is ever to be found in an elderly gentleman of a fresh complexion who has got to the end of a bottle, when a rattling of wheels came up the narrow street, and rumbled into the inn-yard.

— Charles Dickens

If they can’t make me innocent out of the whole truth, they are not likely to do it out of anything less, or anything else.

— Charles Dickens

Like man in the abstract, he is here to-day and gone to-morrow – but, very unlike man indeed, he is here again the next day.

— Charles Dickens

The large rooms are too cramped and close. She cannot endure their restraint, and will walk alone in a neighbouring garden.

— Charles Dickens

It would come dearer... for when a person comes to grind off poetry night after night, it is but right that he should expect to be paid for its weakening effect upon his mind.

— Charles Dickens

I know,’ said I, in answer to that action; ‘I know. I have no hope that I shall ever call you mine, Estella. I am ignorant what may become of me very soon, how poor I may be, or where I may go. Still, I love you. I have loved you ever since I first saw you in this house.

— Charles Dickens

What alone was wanting to the realization of a vast fortune, he considered to be More Capital. Those were the two little words, more capital. Now.

— Charles Dickens

You are part of my existence, part of myself.

— Charles Dickens

In consideration of the day and hour of my birth, it was declared by the nurse, and by some sage women in the neighbourhood who had taken a lively interest in me several months before there was any possibility of our becoming personally.

— Charles Dickens

I was born with a caul, which was advertised for sale, in the newspapers, at the low price of fifteen guineas. Whether.

— Charles Dickens

She has worn herself away by constant sharpening. She is all edge.

— Charles Dickens

This may be premature. I have set it down too soon, perhaps. But let it stand.

— Charles Dickens

Howsever they come, they didn’t ought to come, and they come from the father of lies, and work round to the same.

— Charles Dickens
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