“Wrong arm, dear.”
“Nothing is wrong with you dear child. You are special, you are… a witch.”
“Oh dear sunday, I want to sleep in your arms and have fun day.”
“Is anything wrong, dear? the old joke went.No, why?You moved.Just don't move.”
“Dear Sir: Regarding your article 'What's Wrong with the World?' I am. Yours truly,”
“My dear Elinor, you were obviously born into the wrong story,” said Dustfinger at last.”