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

The land was ours before we were the land's. She was our land more than a hundred years Before we were her people.

Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow.

I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain - and back in rain. I have out walked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet. When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly light, One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.

All thought is a feat of association; having what's in front of you bring up something in your mind that you almost didn't know you knew

The best way out is always through.

Nature is always hinting at us. It hints over and over again. And suddenly we take the hint.