He tears down my handiwork, boxes my ears, and croaks: ' ''T' maister nobbut just buried, and Sabbath nut oe'red, und t' sahnd uh't gospel still i' yer lugs, and yah darr be laiking! shame on ye! sit ye dahn, ill childer! they's good books enough if ye'll read 'em; sit ye dahn, and think uh yer sowls!
-Emily Brontë
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