By the rude bridge that arched the flood Their flag to April?s breeze unfurled Here once the embattled farmers stood And fired the shot heard round the world.
Sometimes if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
By the rude bridge that arched the flood Their flag to April?s breeze unfurled Here once the embattled farmers stood And fired the shot heard round the world.
Politicians are the same all over. They promise to build a bridge even where there is no river.
He that cannot forgive others breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass if he would ever reach heaven for everyone has need to be forgiven.
If you hug to yourself any resentment against anybody else you destroy the bridge by which God would come to you.
Sometimes if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.
The only bad thing about keeping on burning your bridges Behind you is that the world is round.
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
If all my friends were to jump off a bridge I wouldn?t jump with them. I?d be at the bottom to catch them.
There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love.
Well cross that bridge when we come to it.