All The Butterflies And Cockyolybirds Would Fly

Feelings Are Like Chemicals, The More You Analyze Them The Worse They Smell.

Gradually The Sunken Land Begins To Rise Again, And Falls Perhaps Again, And Rises Again After That, More And More Gently Each Time, Till As It Were The Panting Earth, Worn Out With The Fierce Passions Of Her Fiery Youth, Has Sobbed Herself To Sleep Once More, And This New World Of Man Is Made.

Wherever Is Love And Loyalty, Great Purposes And Lofty Souls, Even Though In A Hovel Or A Mine, There Is Fairyland.

If "ifs" And "ands" Were Pots And Pans, There'd Be No Work For Tinkers' Hands

If You Do Anything Above Party, The True Hearted Ones Of All Parties Sympathize With You.