Charles Dickens Quotes

It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul.

Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life.

But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be - a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.

Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Sharp and fell remorse, the offspring of my sin! Why do you, O God, lacerate my heart so late? Why, O boding cries, that scream so close to me,--why do I listen to you now, and never heard you before?

When I'm in pain and grief and despair, my throat is clenched and my heart hurts.

It is a time when one's spirit is subdued and sad, one knows not why; when the past seems a storm-swept desolation, life a vanity and a burden, and the future but a way to death.

Misery pulls away the brackets of life leaving you to free fall.

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.

Discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair.

The dull pain of truth weights my soul, pulling it under. I am left hopelessly awake.

I cannot tell how much my heart suffered for my people while at Leavenworth.

Sorrow lies like a heartbeat behind everything I have written.

After I got over the terrible pain of having something of mine taken from me, I began to think how bad everybody else must be feeling. It wasn't a nice time.

Pain is the question mark turned like a fishhook in the human heart.

Physical pain however great ends in itself and falls away like dry husks from the mind, whilst moral discords and nervous horrors sear the soul.

Melancholy and sadness are the start of doubt... doubt is the beginning of despair; despair is the cruel beginning of the differing degrees of wickedness.

The human heart dares not stay away too long from that which hurt it most. There is a return journey to anguish that few of us are released from making.

One cannot be deeply responsive to the world without being saddened very often.

The torture of a bad conscience is the hell of a living soul.

Nothing can so pierce the soul as the uttermost sigh of the body.

Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.

Many gloat over their own troubles.

I can feel myself dying inside.