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CHARLES DICKENS
English novelist
(1812 - 1870)
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O, if the good deeds of human creatures could be traced to their source, how beautiful would even death appear; for how much charity, mercy, and purified affection would be seen to have growth in dusty graves!
      - [Goodness]

Perhaps it is a good thing to have an unsound hobby ridden hard; for it is sooner ridden to death.
      - [Hobbies]

Poetry's unnat'ral; no man ever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin' day.
      - [Poetry]

Probably every new and eagerly expected garment ever put on since clothes came in fell a trifle short of the wearer's expectation.
      - [Clothes]

Reflect upon your present blessings, of which every man has many; not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.
      - [Blessings]

Second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on.
      - [Care]

Shall we speak of the inspiration of a poet or a priest, and not of the heart impelled by love and self-devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life?
      - [Humility]

She was in the lovely bloom and spring-time of womanhood; at the age when, if ever angels be for God's good purpose enthroned in mortal form, they may be, without impiety, supposed to abide in such as hers.
      - [Girlhood]

Some women's faces are, in their brightness, a prophecy; and some, in their sadness, a history.
      - [Face]

Spite is a little word, but it represents as strange a jumble of feelings and compound of discords, as any polysyllable in the language.
      - [Spite]

Subdue your appetites, my dears, and you've conquered human nature.
      - [Appetite]

The aphorism "Whatever is, is right," would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome consequence that nothing that ever was, was wrong.
      - [Evil]

The delicate face where thoughtful care already mingled with the winning grace and loveliness of youth, the too bright eye, the spiritual head, the lips that pressed each other with such high resolve and courage of the heart, the slight figure, firm in its bearing and yet so very weak.
      - [Sickness]

The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion! The fashion that came in with our first garments, and will last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion--Death! Oh, thank God, all who see it, for that older fashion yet--of Immortality!
      - [Death]

The shadows of our own desires stand between us and our better angels, and thus their brightness is eclipsed.
      - [Desire]

The sum of the whole is this: walk and be happy, walk and be healthy. "The best of all ways to lengthen our days" is not, as 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. The wandering man knows of certain ancients, far gone in years, who have staved off infirmities and dissolution by earnest walking,--hale fellows close upon eighty and ninety, but brisk as boys.
      - [Walking]

The wine-shops breed, in physical atmosphere of malaria and a moral pestilence of envy and vengeance, the men of crime and revolution.
      - [Wine and Spirits]

There are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts.
      - [Books]

There are chords in the human heart--strange, varying strings--which are only struck by accident; which will remain mute and senseless to appeals the most passionate and earnest, and respond at last to the slightest casual touch.
      - [Heart]

There are hopes, the bloom of whose beauty would be spoiled by the trammels of description; too lovely, too delicate, too sacred for words, they should only be known through the sympathy of hearts.
      - [Hope]

There is a Sunday conscience as well as a Sunday coat; and those who make religion a secondary concern put the coat and conscience carefully by to put on only once a week.
      - [Sabbath]

There is no substitute for thoroughgoing, ardent, and sincere earnestness.
      - [Earnestness]

There is nothing truer than physiognomy, taken in connection with manner.
      - [Physiognomy]

There is nothing--no, nothing--innocent or good, that dies and is forgotten; let us hold to that faith or none. An infant, a prattling child, dying in the cradle, will live again in the better thoughts of those that loved it, and play its part through them in the redeeming actions of the world, though its body be burnt to ashes or drowned in the deep sea.
      - [Forgetfulness]

To a young heart everything is fun.
      - [Fun]


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