"A man is lucky if he is the first love of a woman. A woman is lucky if she is the last love of a man."
"At last, in the dead of the night, when the street was very still indeed, Little Dorrit laid the heavy head upon her bosom, and soothed her to sleep. And thus she sat at the gate, as it were alone; looking up at the stars, and seeing the clouds pass over them in their wild flight-which was the dance at Little Dorrit's party."
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Source: CHARLES DICKENS (1867). “LITTLE DORRIT”, p.110
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