“My dear, my dear,’ said Kate, but to herself. ‘I would give you my soul in a blackberry pie; and a knife to cut it with.”
“I would give you my soul in a blackberry pie; and a knife to cut it with.”
“My dear, I don't give a damn.”
“My dear," she had said to Mamma, "I could not bring myself to give the child anything that was not well written,”
“I wish to you sunshine, my dear one, my dear one. And treetops for you to soar past. I wish to you innocence, my child, my child. I pray you don't grow up too fast.Never know pain, my dear one, my dear one. Nor hunger nor fear nor sorrow. Never know war, my child, my child. Remember your hope for tomorrow.”
“Run my dear, From anything That may not strengthen Your precious budding wings. Run like hell my dear, From anyone likely To put a sharp knife Into the sacred, tender vision Of your beautiful heart.”