Don't 'honey' Me In That Southern-fried Twang.

She, As No Other Ever Could, Reached Every Corner Of His Heart. His Joy, And His Salvation.

Don't 'honey' Me In That Southern-fried Twang.

He Had Realised That Most Vital Of Humanities. He Had Touched Lives. And He Had Raised Three Boys That No One Had Wanted Into Men.

She Gazed Toward The Marsh That Grew Thicker, Deeper, Greener With Approaching Summer. Mosquitoes Whined In There, Breeding In The Dark Water. Alligators Slid Through It, Silent Death. It Was A Place Where Snakes Could Slither And Bogs Could Suck The Shoe Right Off Your Foot. And It Was A Place, She Thought, That Went Bright And Beautiful With The Twinkling Of Fireflies, Where Wildflowers Thrived In The Shade And The Stingy Light. Where An Eagle Could Soar Like A King. There Was No Beauty Without Risk. No Life Without It.

Men Are Boys In Bigger Packages.