I was awakened with a bunch of violets from Mrs. Pride.
Violets always remind me of Kate and of the sweet South wind that blew in the
garden of paradise part of my life. Then, it all came back: the dread
unspeakable that lies behind every thought now.
SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 372
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