All Our Yesterdays Are Summarized In Our

No Winter Lasts Forever, No Spring Skips Its Turn. April Is A Promise That May Is Bound To Keep, And We Know It.

Man Is Not An Aquatic Animal, But From The Time We Stand In Youthful Wonder Beside A Spring Brook Till We Sit In Old Age And Watch The Endless Roll Of The Sea, We Feel A Strong Kinship With The Waters Of This World.

The Longer I Live And The More I Read, The More Certain I Become That The Real Poems About Spring Aren't Written On Paper. They Are Written In The Back Pasture And The Near Meadow, And They Are Issued In A New Revised Edition Every April.

You Fight Dandelions All Weekend, And Late Monday Afternoon There They Are, Pert As All Get Out, In Full And Gorgeous Bloom, Pretty As Can Be, Thriving As Only Dandelions Can In The Face Of Adversity.

A Frontier Is Never A Place; It Is A Time And A Way Of Life.