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Dim loneliness came imperceivably into the fields and he turned back. The birds piped oddly; some wind was caressing the higher foliage, turning it all one way, the way home. Telegraph poles ahead looked like half-used pencils; the small cross on the steeple glittered with a sharp and shapely permanence.
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Oh I have been to Ludlow fair, and left my necktie God knows where. And carried half way home, or near, pints and quarts of Ludlow beer.
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I dont really take anything from home except some U.S. magazines and books and definitely some U.S. music. There are just certain songs that remind me of home.
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"We may talk what we please," he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, "of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles, in fields d'or or d'argent; but, if heraldry were guided by reason, a plough in a field arable would be the most noble and ancient arms."
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Land is not merely soil, it is a fountain of energy flowing through a circuit of soils, plants and animals.
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Consult the genius of the place, that paints as you plant, and as you work.
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I did it for the love of cash your honer, traffickin' cross the verrazano, coke dealin marijuana
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Gaiety alone, as it were, is the hard cash of happiness; everything else is just a promissory note.
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If our financial industry regarded security the way the health-care sector does, I would stuff my cash in a mattress under my bed.
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Home ownership was the fig leaf for the rise in subprime lending. But that was really about cash-out refinancings, not buying homes.
