The rain and hail pattered against the glass; the chimneys quaked and rocked; the crazy casement rattled with the wind, as though an impatient hand inside were striving to burst it open. But no hand was there, and it opened no more.
Charles DickensRich folks may ride on camels, but it ain't so easy for 'em to see out of a needle's eye.
Charles Dickens[I]t seemed as if the streets were absorbed by the sky, and the night were all in the air.
Charles DickensNow I am in the garden at the back . . . a very preserve of butterflies as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate . . . where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unnerved.
Charles Dickens