I THINK that I should like to be
A pavement artist best,
For he has every kind of chalk
Spread in a cosy nest.
I have ten pieces in a box,— Compton Mackenzie
Black, yellow, white and blue,
Pink, red, brown, orange, grey and green,
But these are far too few.
A book is meant to be read from beginning to end but it’s best understood from end to beginning—Winston Church
Learning hath gained most by those books by which printers have lost.— Thomas Fuller
Now Available in paperback and eBook format On Amazon!
In a world of an ever-shrinking environment for wild animals, why not make a microhabitat in your own yard? This book provides advice on how to turn your yard into a haven for wild birds all year long. With a little planning and consideration, your yard can be a source of water, food, and shelter for birds. By doing some small things, before you know it, you will find your self enjoying the beauty and antics of wilds birds. Once they find that your yard is safe and a steady of what they need, wild birds will flock and gather at your home and become welcome friends. The tips in this book will guide you on the path to creating a wild bird paradise in your own yard.
Keeping Wild Birds On Amazon
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Books are the quiet monitors of mind,
They prompt its motions, shape its ways, they find
A road through mazes to the higher ground,
Whence to explore the sky-bound marches. Round
About us lie the open downs. Our days
Still ask a guide and goad. Wherefore always
We meditate wise thoughts and passionate lays;
Wherefore I send a book.
Books are the mind’s last symbol. They express
Its visions and its subtleties—a dress
Material for the immaterial things
That soar to immortality on wings
Of words, and live, by magic of the pen,
Where dead minds live, upon the lips of men
And deep in hearts that stir. Wherefore do I,
Drawing a little near, prophetically,
Send you a book.
Books are the heart’s memorial. They shall measure,— Clive Bell
In after days, our undiscovered treasure,—
Thrilling self-knowledge, half-divined untold
Yearnings, and tongueless agonies, shall unfold
Or half unfold to half-illumined eyes.
The cypress shadows creeping gnomonwise
Still stretch their purple fingers down the hill
That hangs above Fiesole; and still
Your English fireside glows. Do you most dear—
Sometimes just guessed at, sometimes very near—
Yet always dear and fairest friend, do you
Recall the sunlight and the firelight too?
Recall the pregnant hours, the gay delights,
The pain, the tears maybe, the ravished heights,
The golden moments my cold lines commend,
The days, in memory or which I send
Drink nothing without seeing it, sign nothing without reading it.— Portuguese proverb
Education begins the gentleman, but reading, good company, and reflection must finish him.— John Locke