Poor miserable wretches, to your death,The taste whereof God of his mercy giveYou patience to endure, and true repentanceOf all your dear offences. - Bear them hence.
words i want to say to you“She trembled in his arms but he didn’t know the words to soothe her. His French was dismal at best and her English broken, but he wanted to say, “don’t be afraid” and he wanted her to nod in response, blissful in the knowledge that her husband would sooner die than hurt her in any way. He wanted to tell her that from the moment he saw her, he thought her perfect and loved her, and when he saw that she was not perfect, he loved her even more..”
I’ll so offend to make offense a skill.