I did not want to write one of those sequels that famous first-book authors get into where everybody says, ‘Oh yeah.’
Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.
History was a hobby for about, oh, 20 years before I got into print.
Oh, mercy, I think we’re all storytellers, you know. You think of the excuses you told your parents for why you got home late. I just never gave it up.
Oh, what a tangled web do parents weave when they think that their children are naive.
Oh, give us the man who sings at his work.
Oh! blame not the bard.
As I lay so sick on my bed, from Christmas till March, I was always praying for poor ole master. ‘Pears like I didn’t do nothing but pray for ole master. ‘Oh, Lord, convert ole master;’ ‘Oh, dear Lord, change dat man’s heart, and make him a Christian.’
Oh, by the way, I tend to use a lot of profanities. I do that for a reason: I like it.
Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!