Stonewall Jackson, wrapped in his beard and his silence.
Books are not men and yet they stay alive.
When Daniel Boone goes by at night The phantom deer arise And all lost, wild America Is burning in their eyes.
I died in my boots like a pioneer With the whole wide sky above me.
Our fathers and ourselves sowed dragon's teeth. Our children know and suffer the armed men.
Even the damned may salute the eloquence of Mr. Webster.
Broad-streeted Richmond ... The trees in the streets are old trees used to living with people, Family trees that remember your grandfather's name.
They were half of the first families in Virginia. Well, where do you start, when you start counting F.F.V.s?
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