What I Do . . . The

Good And Bad; Shade And Sunlight, There's But A Hair's Breath Between Them. It's All One In The End.

Liadan," He Said, Staring Intently At The Ground. "yes," I Whispered. "don't Wed That Man Eamonn. Tell Him, If He Takes You, He's A Dead." --bran

There Was So Much Of Beauty Here: The Neat, Small Tracks Of A Foraging Creature, Stoat Or Marten; The Inticate Tracery Of A Skeleton Leaf, Still Clinging Vainly To Its Parent Tree As, Little By Little, Time Stripped It Of Its Substance, Leaving Only The Delicate Remembrance Of What It Had Been.

He And I…we Share A Bond. Not Love, Exactly. It Goes Beyond That. He Is Mine As Surely As Sun Follows Moon Across The Sky. Mine Before Ever I Knew He Existed. Mine Until Death And Beyond.

Every Man Or Woman Who Makes A Stand Helps Keep The Flame Of Freedom Burning.