Mountains culminate in peaks, and nations in men.

The struggles waged by nations are weak only when they lack support in the hearts of their women.

Men are like the stars; some generate their own light while others reflect the brilliance they receive.

And strangers, the terrible of the nations, have cut him off, and have left him: upon the mountains and in all the valleys his branches are fallen, and his boughs are broken by all the rivers of the land; and all the people of the earth are gone down from his shadow, and have left him.

When they burst through, a small chain of colorful mountains appeared below them. The range spanned from the deepest, darkest blue to the shiniest, brightest white and everything in between. The foot of each mountain was a single color– midnight blue, mossy green, burnt umber – and this color, whatever it was, was the darkest shade it could be. As the color moved up the mountains, the shade grew lighter and lighter until it reached the peak. The peaks were glorious pastels, shimmering with only the faintest pigment.

Great things are done when men and mountains meet; This is not done by jostling in the street