Coming, As I Do, From Mountain Folk

Time And Times Are But Cogwheels, Unmatched, Grinding On Oblivious To One Another. Occasionally - Oh, Very Rarely! - The Cogs Fit; The Pieces Of The Plot Snap Together Momentarily And Give Men Faint Glimpses Beyond The Veil Of This Everyday Blindness We Call Reality.

When I Cannot Stand Alone, It Will Be Time To Die.

When A Nation Forgets Her Skill In War, When Her Religion Becomes A Mockery, When The Whole Nation Becomes A Nation Of Money-grabbers, Then The Wild Tribes, The Barbarians Drive In... Who Will Our Invaders Be? From Whence Will They Come?

Aye, You White Dog, You Are Like All Your Race; But To A Black Man Gold Can Never Pay For Blood.

In The Hill Country, Civilization Steals In Last, And The People Retain Much Of The Crude But Vigorous Mode Of Expression Of The Colonial Days And Earlier.