Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Charles Dickens

Quote by Charles Dickens

“There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn’t believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn’t ate it all at last!”

Quote by Charles Dickens

Work

A Christmas Carol

Charles Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol' is a novella that explores themes of greed, charity, and the spirit of giving. The story follows Ebenezer Scrooge, a miserly and cold-hearted businessman, who is visited by the ghost of his deceased business partner, Jacob Marley, and three spirits: the Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present, and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Through these encounters, Scrooge is shown the errors of his ways and is ultimately transformed into a more compassionate and generous individual. more

Author

Charles Dickens
Charles Dickens

Charles Dickens, a British writer born on February 7, 1812, and died on June 9, 1870, is one of the greatest novelists of the 19th century. Known for his profound social criticism and vivid narrative style, Dickens' works extensively cover social reality, revealing various issues in the British society of the time. more

You May Also Like

“Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook’s next door to each other, with a laundress’s next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered—flushed, but smiling proudly—with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.”

“Dying Hours by Stewart Stafford All debts were settled on Christmas Eve, Fail to do so, and there’d be no reprieve, In the dying flame of a guttering candle, Monies got paid, and cash got handled. When the last customer left to journey home, Quinn, the shop owner, found himself alone, He stared at pooling shadows, no one there, Told himself to hurry, be with those who care. As he closed up, something screamed out, A figure from out of the dark began to shout, A man with no eyes begged alms for the dead, Or any old soup with a thick slice of bread. Quinn said he was a business, not a charity, The man’s eyes opened with some clarity, “Very well,” the man said, “Nothing’s free,” “I’ll drag your soul to Hell, come with me!” © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”