All the people I have written about remain with me - perhaps they are my closest friends.
The young Dickens was so alive, so self-confident, so funny.
I enjoyed the whole process of learning and was always happy when autumn came and school or college started up again.
Everybody is vulnerable through love of their children. Hostages to fortune.
All writers behave badly. All people behave badly.
As he approached his 28th birthday in February 1840, Dickens knew himself to be famous, successful and tired. He needed a rest, and he made up his mind to keep the year free of the pressure of producing monthly installments of yet another long novel.