Strew Gladness On The Paths Of Men-you

Where Shall We Get Religion? Beneath The Open Sky, The Sphere Of Crystal Silence Surcharged With Deity.. The Midnight Earth Sends Incense Up, Sweet With The Breath Of Prayer -- Go Out Beneath The Naked Night And Get Religion There.

I Say The Very Things That Make The Greatest Stiran' The Most Interestin' Things, Are Things That Did N't Occur.

The Woods Were Made For The Hunters Of Dreams, The Brooks For The Fishers Of Song; To The Hunters Who Hunt For The Gunless Game The Streams And The Woods Belong.

A Hundred Thousand Men Were Led By One Calf Near Three Centuries Dead; They Followed Still His Crooked Way And Lost A Hundred Years A Day; For Thus Such Reverence Is Lent To Well Established Precedent.

There Are Purple Grapes In The Land Of Git-thare.