Better the dark, silent, and fated waves of ocean, than the troubled waves of life. There are some whose sojourn on this earth is brief as it is bitter.
Jimmy was seven and had just finished first grade, so that made Nancy our caboose baby — our bonus child — our swan song.
Are the Indians who hunt or the white inhabitants who have settled on the vast plains of the Missouri, as subject to remittant and intermittant fevers as those who inhabit a country shaded by forest trees?
Come now! You must eat it.
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