human
Children, she cried,
gpt
How freezing ourselves? answered Ventura, unbuttoning his collar,
human
I'm too warm, the cold is in your bones, Aunt Maria.
gpt
Do not play with your health, my son, nor trust in your youth, for Death does not look at the record of baptism. This north wind cuts like a knife, and you are more likely to get a consumption by waiting here than an inheritance from the Indies.
human
Our Lady of Sorrows, some pious offerings, and the
gpt
Mystic Garland; or, Lives of the Saints,