It Is Not Death That Kills Us,

Food Imaginatively And Lovingly Prepared, And Eaten In Good Company, Warms The Being With Something More Than The Mere Intake Of Calories. I Cannot Conceive Of Cooking For Friends Or Family, Under Reasonable Conditions, As Being A Chore.

Cross Creek Belongs To The Wind And The Rain, To The Sun And The Seasons, To The Cosmic Secrecy Of Seed, And Beyond All, To Time.

The Inferred Is Always More Effective Than The Obvious.

No Case Of Libel By A Negro Against A White Would Even Reach A Southern Court.

No Man Should Have Proprietary Rights Over Land Who Does Not Use That Land Wisely And Lovingly.