"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."
"It was a murky confusion — here and there blotted with a color like the color of the smoke from damp fuel — of flying clouds tossed up into most remarkable heaps, suggesting greater heights in the clouds than there were depths below them to the bottom of the deepest hollows in the earth, through which the wild moon seemed to plunge headlong, as if, in a dread disturbance of the laws of nature, she had lost her way and were frightened."
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Source: Charles Dickens (1850). “The Personal History of David Copperfield0: In Three Volumes”, p.265
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