"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."
"Upon the purple tree-tops far away, and on the green height near at hand up which the shades were slowly creeping, there was an equal hush. Between the real landscape and its shadow in the water, there was no division; both were so untroubled and clear, and, while so fraught with solemn mystery of life and death, so hopefully reassuring to the gazer's soothed heart, because so tenderly and mercifully beautiful."
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Source: Charles Dickens, George Cruikshank (1868). “The Works of Charles Dickens: Little Dorrit”, p.287
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