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Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
— John Dryden
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Hallo! A great deal of steam! the pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the pudding.
— Charles Dickens
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