The deep remembrance of the sense I had, of being utterly without hope now; of the shame I felt in my position; of misery it was to my young heart to believe that day by day what I had learned, and thought, and delighted in, and raised my fancy and my emulation up by, would pass away from me, little by little, never to be brought back any more, cannot be written.

David Copperfield by Charles Dickens

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