One should never be ashamed to cry. Tears are rain on the dust of earth.
Interpretation
Crying is a natural and healthy expression of emotions, just like rain nourishes the earth.
In this quote, Charles Dickens emphasizes the importance of expressing emotions, particularly through crying, without shame. He likens tears to rain that revitalizes and cleanses the 'dust of earth,' suggesting that emotional release is vital for personal renewal and growth, much like how rain is essential for nurturing the environment.
In practice
In a speech about mental health, one might quote Dickens to remind the audience that it's okay to express emotions.
I recollected one story there was in the village, how that on a certain night in the year (it might be that very night for anything I knew), all the dead people came out of the ground and sat at the heads of their own graves till morning.
A silent look of affection and regard when all other eyes are turned coldly away-the consciousness that we possess the sympathy and affection of one being when all others have deserted us-is a hold, a stay, a comfort, in the deepest affliction, which no wealth could purchase, or power bestow.
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before--more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.
There are not a few among the disciples of charity who require, in their vocation, scarcely less excitement than the votaries of pleasure in theirs.
You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman.
Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.
A wish is a desire without energy
He said true things, but called them by wrong names.
I would give all of my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
Everything comes if a man will only wait.
The obscure we see eventually. The completely obvious, it seems, takes longer.
These dreams reminded me that, since I wished some day to become a writer, it was high time to decide what sort of books I was going to write. But as soon as I asked myself the question, and tried to discover some subject to which I could impart a philosophical significance of infinite value, my mind would stop like a clock, my consciousness would be faced with a blank, I would feel either that I was wholly devoid of talent or perhaps that some malady of the brain was hindering its development.
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