The Most Beautiful Stories Always Start With

The Grapes On A Score Of Rolling Hills Are Red With Autumn Flame. Across Sonoma Mountain Wisps Of Sea Fog Are Stealing. The Afternoon Sun Smoulders In The Drowsy Sky. I Have Everything To Make Me Glad I Am Alive. I Am Filled With Dreams And Mysteries. I Am All Sun And Air And Sparkle. I Am Vitalized, Organic.

Our Ape-like And Arboreal Ancestors Entered Upon The First Of Many Short Cuts. To Crack A Marrow-bone With A Rock Was The Act Which Fathered The Tool, And Between The Cracking Of A Marrow-bone And The Riding Down Town In An Automobile Lies Only A Difference Of Degree.

But It Did Not All Happen In A Day, This Giving Over Of Himself, Body And Soul, To The Man-animals. He Could Not Immediately Forego His Wild Heritage And His Memories Of The Wild. There Were Days When He Crept To The Edge Of The Forest And Stood And Listened To Something Calling Him Far And Away.

Where Others Have Hearts, He Carries A Tumor Of Rotten Principles.

You Look Back And See How Hard You Worked And How Poor You Were, And How Desperately Anxious You Were To Succeed, And All You Can Remember Is How Happy You Were.