To Chase The Glowing Hours With Flying

Oh, Nature's Noblest Gift, My Grey Goose Quill, Slave Of My Thoughts, Obedient To My Will, Torn From The Parent Bird To Form A Pen, That Mighty Instrument Of Little Men.

There Is Pleasure In The Pathless Woods.

Oh, Talk Not To Me Of A Name Great In Story; The Days Of Our Youth Are The Days Of Our Glory; And The Myrtle And Ivy Of Sweet Two-and-twenty Are Worth All Your Laurels, Though Ever So Plenty.

The Coach Does Not Play In The Game, But The Coach Helps The Players Identify Areas To Improve Their Game.

The Very Best Of Vineyards Is The Cellar