I think it impossible, utterly impossible, for any Englishman to live here [in America], and be happy.
Charles DickensI had considered how the things that never happen, are often as much realities to us, in their effects, as those that are accomplished.
Charles DickensThe night was dark, and a cold wind blew, driving the clouds, furiously and fast, before it. There was one black, gloomy mass that seemed to follow him: not hurrying in the wild chase with the others, but lingering sullenly behind, and gliding darkly and stealthily on. He often looked back at this, and, more than once, stopped to let it pass over; but, somehow, when he went forward again, it was still behind him, coming mournfully and slowly up, like a shadowy funeral train.
Charles Dickens