Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!

Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!

To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned.

And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'

God help us for we knew the worst too young.

I always try to believe the best of everybody -it saves so much trouble.