I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.
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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
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.
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. I was better after I had cried, than before--more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.
I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.
There was something very comfortable in having plenty of stationery.
'I'll tell you,' said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper, 'what real love it. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter - as I did!'
I stole her heart away and put ice in its place.
Take nothing on its looks; take everything on evidence. There's no better rule.
I must be taken as I have been made. The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together make 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.
There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth.
You are part of my existence, part of myself.
In a word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew to be right, as I had been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong.
Love her, love her, love her! If she favors you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her!
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before -- more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.
I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.
I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.
I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.