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All my life I have written letters - to our mother, our relatives, a wide circle of friends and acquaintance, to my husband, to you. Correspondence has always been as necessary to my happiness as a well-cooked dinner, and I've found it more sustaining for its generosity: an act of charity that returned to me a hundredfold...
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correspondence
letter-writing
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Delia Sherman |
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What was the good of dreaming of adventure if you turned your back on the first one that came your way?
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Delia Sherman |
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Mam said I was growing up. I felt that I was dying.
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growing-up
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Delia Sherman |
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My horse is plodding down a path unspooling under her hooves like a ball of wool, only wider, while I think of ways to wake kings or small children or writers, all of whom seem to be constantly sleeping and dreaming of me in the seventh square on a horse with a mind of her own.
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white-knight
wool
kings
writers
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Delia Sherman |
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His mama beat him with an ugly stick so hard, it gone straight on till his soul.
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Delia Sherman |
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Anybody who can get through March without breaking a glass, a friendship, a secret, a promise, or somebody's nose is either a saint or on vacation in Florida.
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Delia Sherman |
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mama
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Delia Sherman |