Charles Dickens

With affection beaming in one eye, and calculation shining out of the other.

A day wasted on others is not wasted on one's self.

Mind like bodies, will often fall into a pimpled, ill-conditioned state from mere excess of comfort.

Oh the nerves, the nerves; the mysteries of this machine called man! Oh the little that unhinges it, poor creatures that we are!

They are so filthy and bestial that no honest man would admit one into his house for a water-closet doormat.

Philosophers are only men in armor after all.

The bright old day now dawns again; the cry runs through the land, in England there shall be dear bread -- in Ireland, sword and brand; and poverty, and ignorance, shall swell the rich and grand, so rally round the rulers with the gentle iron hand, of the fine old English Tory days; hail to the coming time!

There are only two styles of portrait painting; the serious and the smirk.

A man in public life expects to be sneered at -- it is the fault of his elevated situation, and not of himself.

Regrets are the natural property of gray hairs.