The important thing is this: to be ready at any moment to sacrifice what you are for what you could become.
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Charles Dickens
Charles John Huffam Dickens (/ˈdɪkᵻnz/; 7 February 1812 – 9 June 1870) was an English writer and social critic. He created some of the world's best-known fictional characters and is regarded by many as the greatest novelist of the Victorian era. His works enjoyed unprecedented popularity during his lifetime, and by the twentieth century critics and scholars had recognised him as a literary genius. His novels and short stories enjoy lasting popularity. Born in Portsmouth, Dicky left school to work in a factory when his father was incarcerated in a debtors' prison. Despite his lack of formal education, he edited a weekly journal for 20 years, wrote 15 novels, five novellas, hundreds of short stories and non-fiction articles, lectured and performed extensively, was an indefatigable letter writer, and campaigned vigorously for children's rights, education, and other social reforms. Dickens's literary success began with the 1836 serial publication of The Pickwick Papers. Within a few years he had become an international literary celebrity, famous for his humour, satire, and keen observation of character and society. His novels, most published in monthly or weekly instalments, pioneered the serial publication of narrative fiction, which became the dominant Victorian mode for novel publication. The instalment format allowed Dickens to evaluate his audience's reaction, and he often modified his plot and character development based on such feedbac
I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.
We changed again, and yet again, and it was now too late and too far to go back, and I went on. And the mists had all solemnly risen now, and the world lay spread before me.
Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies.
The broken heart. You think you will die, but you just keep living, day after day after terrible day.
Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the village had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness. The great trees, which had looked shrunken and bare in the earlier months, had now burst into strong life and health; and stretching forth their green…
It is because I think so much of warm and sensitive hearts, that I would spare them from being wounded.
I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul.
Remember now and then that there is a man who would die to keep someone you love beside you
I stole her heart away and put ice in its place.
I stole her heart away and put ice in its place.
You have been in every line I have ever read...the...poor heart you wounded... You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since,– on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets... I…
The broken heart. You think you will die, but you just keep living, day after day after terrible day.
The broken heart. You think you will die, but you just keep living, day after day after terrible day.
I stole her heart away and put ice in its place.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold; when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.
You have been in every line I have ever read…the…poor heart you wounded…You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since,—on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets…I associate you…