There is no slave, after all, like a wife...Poor women, poor slaves All married women, all children and girls who live in their father's house are slaves.
Darkest of all Decembers ever has my life known, Sitting here by the embers, stunned, helpless, alone.
Forgiveness is indifference. Forgiveness is impossible while love lasts.
She died praying that she might die.
Of all our sorrows, memory is the worst.
To think there are men who dare so defile a church, a sacred sanctuary dedicated to God. We have to hold up our skirts and walk tiptoe, so covered is the floor, the aisle and pews, with the dark shower of tobacco juice.