The Pine Is The Mother Of Legends.

If God Made Poets For Anything, It Was To Keep Alive The Traditions Of The Pure, The Holy, And The Beautiful.

I Love Her With A Love As Still As A Broad River's Peaceful Might, Which By High Tower And Lowly Mill, Goes Wandering At Its Own Will, And Yet Does Ever Flow Aright.

He Who Keeps His Faith Only, Cannot Be Discrowned.

If We See Light At The End Of The Tunnel, It's The Light Of The Oncoming Train.

The Greater Your Real Strength And Power, The Quieter It Will Be Exercised.