All bowmen are caught between heaven and earth, born to discovery, choosing to love and raise their eyes high to a future that is apparent only through the strength of their hope.

All bowmen are caught between heaven and earth, born to discovery, choosing to love and raise their eyes high to a future that is apparent only through the strength of their hope.

Look in every city or any town. Travel by foot, or train or plane. Do not settle until there is love. For there, there will be the address of your happiness.

We love against the night, burning like stars against the darkness of bread and circuses.

The happiness in our hearts is there for we dare to dream in light when the world tells us to scream in the darkness.

Heroes do not dwell in a time of peace; heroes are hardened in a kiln against the sorrows. Their troubles sharpen the blade and make it gleaming. The glint becomes a brightness that is raised high on a hill, allowing women and men to see beyond themselves. For light swallows darkness. Truth buries death. Heroes are not born. They are filled by Music.

For our hope in the future is cosmic, forging human history into eternity.