God made a beauteous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden He brought mankind to live, And said "To you, my children, These lovely flowers I give. Prune ye my vines and fig trees, With care my flowers tend, But keep the pathway open Your home is at the end." God's Garden

Come grow old with me, for the best is yet to come!

The father is always a Republican toward his son, and his mother's always a Democrat.

Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away / You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

The ear is the only true writer and the only true reader.

Thinking is not to agree or disagree. That's voting.

Have I not walked without an upward look Of caution under stars that very well Might not have missed me when they shot and fell? It was a risk I had to take-and took.