Southward, two mighty ranges of the Appalachians shouldered their way into the blue distance like tremendous caravans marching across eternity.

Some of the shells brought my heart into my mouth; lying there waiting for them was intolerable. I was sure I was going to be blown to pieces.

Each new generation is a fresh invasion of savages.

Legends are material to be moulded, and not facts to be recorded.

Only the middle-aged have all their five senses in the keeping of their wits.

Southward, two mighty ranges of the Appalachians shouldered their way into the blue distance like tremendous caravans marching across eternity.

Religions change; beer and wine remain.