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¡°Death strides faster than the wind, and never brings back what he has taken away.¡±
- From ¡®The Story of a Mother¡¯
Then the mother wept and sang, and wrung her hands. And there were many songs, and yet even more tears.
- From ¡®The Story of a Mother¡¯
The bramble shot forth fresh green leaves, and they became flowers on the cold winter¡¯s night, so warm is the heart of a sorrowing mother.
- From ¡®The Story of a Mother¡¯
She must cross it, if she wished to find her child. Then she laid herself down to drink up the water of the lake, which was of course impossible for any human being to do; but the bereaved mother thought that perhaps a miracle might take place to help her.
- From ¡®The Story of a Mother¡¯
¡°Grant not my prayers, when they are contrary to Thy will, which at all times must be the best. Oh, hear them not.¡±
- From ¡®The Story of a Mother¡¯