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(The “child” addressed in the Didache is the catechumen, not one’s offspring.)
Christian Writing Decoded
Wyatt North
All her life she had believed in something more, in the mystery that shape-shifted at the edge of her senses. It was the flutter of moth wings on glass and the promise of river nymphs in the dappled creek beds. It was the smell of oak trees on the summer evening she fell in love, and the way dawn threw itself across the cow pond and turned the water to light. Mabel could not remember the last time she caught such a flicker.
The Snow Child
Eowyn Ivey
She seemed to weigh the question up. “Love …” she said, floating the word on the hot air to see, it seemed, what it would become.
The Damnation Game
Clive Barker
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