Charles Dickens Great Expectations Quotes I Will Never Cry for You Again

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Charles Dickens Quotes

Quotes tagged as "charles-dickens" Showing i-30 of 91

"Nosotros changed once more, and even so again, and it was now too late and too far to become back, and I went on. And the mists had all solemnly risen now, and the world lay spread earlier me."
― Charles Dickens, Swell Expectations

"It was the all-time of times, information technology was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, information technology was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, information technology was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, information technology was the wintertime of despair, nosotros had everything earlier us, we had zilch earlier us, we were all going direct to heaven, nosotros were all going directly the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for expert or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparing but."
― Charles Dickens

"Please, sir, I desire some more than."
― Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

"I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, nevertheless shall he alive: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never dice.

(John 11:25-26)"
― Anonymous, The Holy Bible: Rex James Version

"I care for no human being on earth, and no man on world cares for me."
― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

"One time for all; I knew to my sorrow, oft and often, if non always, that I loved her against reason, confronting hope, against peace, confronting promise, confronting happiness, against all discouragement that could be."
― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

"Love, though said to exist afflicted with blindness, is a vigilant watchman."
― Charles Dickens, Our Mutual Friend

"She had curiously thoughtful and attentive eyes; eyes that were very pretty and very good."
― Charles Dickens, Cracking Expectations

"So new to him," she muttered, "and so old to me; so strange to him, then familiar to me; so melancholy to both of u.s.a.!..."
― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

"There are very few moments in a man's existence when he experiences then much ludicrous distress, or meets with so niggling charitable commiseration, as when he is in pursuit of his own lid."
― Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers

"When the final autumn of Dickens's life was over, he continued to work through his final winter and into leap. This is how all of us writers give away the days and years and decades of our lives in exchange for stacks of newspaper with scratches and squiggles on them. And when Death calls, how many of u.s.a. would trade all those pages, all that squandered lifetime-worth of painfully achieved scratches and squiggles, for just one more 24-hour interval, i more fully lived and experienced twenty-four hour period? And what toll would we writers pay for that one actress solar day spent with those we ignored while we were locked away scratching and squiggling in our arrogant years of solipsistic isolation?

Would we trade all those pages for a single hr? Or all of our books for 1 existent minute?"
― Dan Simmons, Drood

"Good for Christmas-time is the crimson colour of the cloak in which--the tree making a wood of itself for her to trip through, with her basket--Little Red Riding-Hood comes to me one Christmas Eve to requite me data of the cruelty and treachery of that dissembling Wolf who ate her grandmother, without making any impression on his appetite, and then ate her, later on making that ferocious joke most his teeth. She was my first dear. I felt that if I could take married Niggling Red Riding-Hood, I should accept known perfect bliss. But, it was not to be; and there was nothing for it but to look out the Wolf in the Noah's Ark at that place, and put him late in the procession on the table, equally a monster who was to be degraded."
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Tree

"In a word, it was impossible for me to separate her, in the by or in the present, from the innermost life of my life."
― Charles Dickens, Keen Expectations

"The great grindstone, Globe, had turned when Mr. Lorry looked out again, and the sun was cherry on the courtyard. But, the bottom grindstone stood alone in that location in the calm morning air, with ruby-red upon it that the sun had never give, and would never have away."
― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Ii Cities

"I meet Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the devastation of the sometime, perishing past this retributive musical instrument, earlier it shall cease out of its nowadays use. I see a beautiful metropolis and brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making explanation for itself and wearing it out. "
― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

"Of course they had more chains on him than Scrooge saw on Marley'south ghost, but he could accept kicked up dickens if he'd wanted. That's a pun, son."
― Stephen King, The Green Mile

"Thackeray's a expert author and Flaubert is a great artist. Trollope is a good writer and Dickens is a great artist. Colette is a very good writer and Proust is a great artist. Katherine Anne Porter was an extremely good writer and Willa Cather was a nifty artist."
― Truman Capote, Conversations with Capote

"Today, every bit a result of the policy of Macmillan's Government, Bang-up Great britain presents in the United Nations the confront of Pecksniff and in Katanga the confront of Gradgrind."
― Conor Cruise O'Brien

"And here you see me working out, every bit cheerfully and thankfully as I may, my doom of sharing in the glass a constant change of customers, and of lying downward and rising upward with the skeleton allotted to me for my mortal companion."
― Charles Dickens, The Haunted House

"The day earlier the Queen'due south Brawl, Male parent had a visitor--a very young girl with literary aspirations, someone Lord Lytton had recommended visit Male parent and sent over–and while Begetter was explaining to her the enjoyment he was having in writing this Drood volume for serialisation, this upstart of a girl had the temerity to ask, 'But suppose you died before all the volume was written?' [...] He spoke very softly in his kindest vocalism and said to her, 'One tin only work on, you know--work while information technology is twenty-four hour period."
― Dan Simmons, Drood

"Similar distant music these words that he had written years before were borne towards him from the past."
― James Joyce, The Expressionless

"And what's the best of all, you've been more than comfortable alonger me, since I was under a dark deject, than when the lord's day shone. That'southward best of all."
― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

"Onları öğüten değirmen gençleri yaşlandıran bir değirmendi; çocukların suratları yüzlerce yıl öncesinden kalma gibiydi, sesleri son derece ciddiydi ve bu yaşlı suratlarda saban izi gibi devam eden her bir çizgide görülen tek bir şey vardı: Açlık. Açlık dört bir yanda hüküm sürüyordu. Açlık, yüksek evlerin dışındaki iplere ya da direklere asılmış içler acısı kıyafetlerdeydi; Açlık, bu kıyafetlerin kâğıttan, samandan, paçavradan ve tahtadan yamalarındaydı; Açlık, adamın testereyle kestiği her ufacık odun parçasında kendini tekrarlıyordu; Açlık, tütmeyen bacalardan aşağıdakileri seyrediyordu; Açlık, çöplerinde zerre kadar yiyecek bulunmayan, leş gibi sokaklarda şaha kalkmış bir dev gibi dikiliyordu. Açlık, fırıncının raflarındaki tek tük bayat ekmeğin üzerine kazılı olan kelimeydi; Açlık, sosis dükkânlarında satılan, ölü köpek etinden yapılmış yiyeceklerdeydi. Açlık, kuru kemiklerini, dönen silindirlerde kebap yapılan kestanelerin arasında takırdatıyordu; Açlık, çeyrek penilik çorba kâsesindeki kendine hayrı olmayan birkaç damla yağ içerisinde kızartılmış sert patates dilimlerinin her bir zerresindeydi."
― Charles Dickens

"Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no incertitude whatever about that. The register of his burying was signed past the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the primary mourner. Scrooge signed it."
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol & Other Vacation Tales

"He'southward a going out with the tide,' said Mr. Peggotty to me, behind his hand.

My eyes were dim and and then were Mr. Peggotty's; but I repeated in a whisper, 'With the tide?'

'People can't die, along the coast,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'except when the tide'due south pretty near out. They tin't exist born, unless it'southward pretty nigh in—non properly born, till flood. He's a going out with the tide. It'southward ebb at half-arter three, slack h2o half an 60 minutes. If he lives till information technology turns, he'll hold his ain till past the flood, and get out with the next tide.'

We remained at that place, watching him, a long time—hours. What mysterious influence my presence had upon him in that country of his senses, I shall not pretend to say; merely when he at last began to wander feebly, information technology is certain he was muttering about driving me to school.

'He's coming to himself,' said Peggotty.

Mr. Peggotty touched me, and whispered with much awe and reverence. 'They are both a-going out fast.'

'Barkis, my dear!' said Peggotty.

'C. P. Barkis,' he cried faintly. 'No better woman anywhere!'

'Look! Here'southward Master Davy!' said Peggotty. For he now opened his optics.

I was on the betoken of asking him if he knew me, when he tried to stretch out his arm, and said to me, distinctly, with a pleasant grinning:

'Barkis is willin'!'

And, information technology being low water, he went out with the tide."
― Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

"Rockwell once said, 'The commonplaces of America are to me the richest subjects in art.' His paintings depict the dignity of everyday people, like the books of Charles Dickens, who in many means was like Rockwell, appreciated by the masses in his lifetime, but non until after decease by critics, and they were both the about fabulous storytellers...."
― Karen Weinreb, The Summertime Kitchen

"It was this. My father had left a small collection of books in a lilliputian room upstairs, to which I had access (for it adjoined my own) and which nobody else in our house e'er troubled. From that blessed little room, Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, Humphrey Dissidence, Tom Jones, the Vicar of Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Blas, and Robinson Crusoe, came out, a glorious host, to keep me company. They kept alive my fancy, and my hope of something beyond that place and fourth dimension,—they, and the Arabian Nights, and the Tales of the Genii,—and did me no damage; for whatever harm was in some of them was not in that location for me; I knew nil of it.

Information technology is astonishing to me now, how I found time, in the midst of my porings and blunderings over heavier themes, to read those books as I did. Information technology is curious to me how I could ever have consoled myself under my pocket-size troubles (which were great troubles to me), by impersonating my favourite characters in them—as I did—and by putting Mr. and Miss Murdstone into all the bad ones—which I did too. I accept been Tom Jones (a child's Tom Jones, a harmless creature) for a week together. I have sustained my own idea of Roderick Random for a month at a stretch, I verily believe. I had a greedy relish for a few volumes of Voyages and Travels—I forget what, now—that were on those shelves; and for days and days I tin can remember to have gone about my region of our business firm, armed with the center-slice out of an old set of boot-trees—the perfect realization of Helm Somebody, of the Imperial British Navy, in danger of being beset by savages, and resolved to sell his life at a slap-up price. The Captain never lost dignity, from having his ears boxed with the Latin Grammar. I did; but the Captain was a Captain and a hero, in despite of all the grammars of all the languages in the world, dead or live.

This was my only and my abiding condolement. When I think of it, the film always rises in my mind, of a summer evening, the boys at play in the churchyard, and I sitting on my bed, reading every bit if for life. Every befouled in the neighbourhood, every stone in the church building, and every foot of the churchyard, had some clan of its own, in my mind, continued with these books, and stood for some locality made famous in them. I accept seen Tom Pipes get climbing up the church-steeple; I have watched Strap, with the knapsack on his back, stopping to rest himself upon the wicket-gate; and I know that Commodore Trunnion held that club with Mr. Pickle, in the parlour of our little village alehouse."
― Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

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