"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."
"Go ye, who rest so placidly upon the sacred Bard who had been young, and when he strung his harp was old, and had never seen the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging their bread; go, Teachers of content and honest pride, into the mine, the mill, the forge, the squalid depths of deepest ignorance, and uttermost abyss of man's neglect, and say can any hopeful plant spring up in air so foul that it extinguishes the soul's bright torch as fast as it is kindled!"
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Source: Charles Dickens (1844). “The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit, His Relatives, Friends and Enemies: Comprising All His Wills and His Ways, with an Historical Record of what He Did, and what He Didn't ...”, p.245
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