Marsha Millar

“Then he said a strange thing, but to himself. `They lived, didn't they?' And I said yes, that when one reads old letters one understands that people in the past really did live, and it is very touching.”
― Elizabeth Kostova, The Swan Thieves

“Her parents took her very seriously; she had trained them, with a combination of treats and punishments, to allow her to do as she pleased and express herself, and to pay attention to her opinions. Thanks”
― Jane Smiley, Golden Age

“Would a panther carry off a little girl, Pa?”
“Yes,” said Pa. “And kill her and eat her, too. You and Mary must stay in the house till I shoot that panther. As soon as daylight comes I will take my gun and go after him.”
All the next day Pa hunted that panther. And he hunted the next day and the next day. He found the panther’s tracks, and he found the hide and bones of an antelope that the panther had eaten, but he did not find the panther anywhere. The panther went swiftly through tree-tops, where it left no tracks.
Pa said he would not stop till he killed that panther. He said, “We can’t have panthers running around in a country where there are little girls.”
But he did not kill that panther, and he did stop hunting it. One day in the woods he met an Indian. They stood in the wet, cold woods and looked at each other, and they could not talk because they did not know each other’s words. But the Indian pointed to the panther’s tracks, and he made motions with his gun to show Pa that he had killed that panther. He pointed to the tree-tops and to the ground, to show that he had shot it out of a tree. And he motioned to the sky, and west and east, to say that he had killed it the day before.
So that was all right. The panther was dead.
Laura asked if a panther would carry off a little papoose and kill and eat her, too, and Pa said yes. Probably that was why the Indian had killed that panther.”
― Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairie

“My soul lightened as I realized I could help her. I rolled her body flat, like Grandpa taught me. I swept my finger inside her cold mouth to make sure her breathing passage was open, and I placed my mouth on hers, carefully pinching her nose, and breathed life into her lungs.
Betsy stirred, sputtered a cough, and opened her eyes.
“Now you kiss me?” she said, so weakly I could barely hear her.”
― Darin C. Brown, The Taste of Despair