Mine is not living; mine is staying, to say the best of it; I am a traveller, brother!
When Roman people speak to one another, they say brother and sister. When parents speak to their children, they say, my son, or my daughter, or my child, gorgiko-like, to either. When children speak to their parents, they say, my father, or my mother.
My father, why were worms made? My son, that moles might live by eating them. My father, why were moles made? My son, that you and I might live by catching them. My father, why were you and I made? My son, that worms might live by eating us.
All farmers are fools. When they hear a citizen in the country say: That’s a fine horse! they say: ’Tis no horse, ’tis a mare; whether the thing’s a horse or not. The simpletons don’t know that a mare’s a horse, though a horse is not a mare.
No one like Gypsy Will’s wife for dancing in a platter.
When Constance Smith died, she was a hundred ten years old.
Do you know Mrs. Cooper?
I knows her very well, brother.
Do you like her?
I loves her very much, brother; and I have often, often said to the other Gypsies, when they speaking ill of her: She’s a gentlewoman; takes care of all of you; if it were not for her, you would all go to the devil.