"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."
"Mr. Pickwick took a seat and the paper, but instead of reading the latter, peeped over the top of it, and took a survey of the man of business, who was an elderly, pimply-faced, vegetable-diet sort of man, in a black coat, dark mixture trousers, and small black gaiters; a kind of being who seemed to be an essential part of the desk at which he was writing, and to have as much thought or sentiment."
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Source: Charles Dickens (1870). “The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club”, p.165
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