‘‘The Stone Age didn’t end for lack of stone, and the oil age will end long before the world runs out of oil.’‘

We built these fences with our hands, in time we’ll tear them down again and start over

Still I would want to be someone who’d answer to me:
Someone who sees like a child, gives like a saint,
feels like an angel — never mind the broken wings,
and speaks like a picture, cries like the rain, shines like a star,
as long as the fire remains.