Summer Ends, And Autumn Comes, And He

Summer Ends, And Autumn Comes, And He Who Would Have It Otherwise Would Have High Tide Always And A Full Moon Every Night.

Knowing Trees, I Understand The Meaning Of Patience. Knowing Grass, I Can Appreciate Persistence.

All Our Yesterdays Are Summarized In Our Now, And All The Tomorrows Are Ours To Shape.

If The Voice Of The Brook Was Not The First Song Of Celebration, It Must Have Been At Least An Obbligato For That Event.

He Who Walks May See And Understand. You Can Study All America From One Hilltop, If Your Eyes Are Open And Your Mind Is Willing To Reach. But First You Must Walk To That Hill.