What holy cities are to nomadic tribes - a symbol of race and a bond of union - great books are to the wandering souls of men: they are the Meccas of the mind.
G.E. Woodberry
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Red Sails in the Sunset
(Red sails in the sunset, way out on the sea)
Oh, carry my loved one home safely to me
(She sailed at the dawning, all day I've been blue)
Red sails in the sunset; I'm trusting in you
Swift wings you must borrow
Make straight for the shore
We marry tomorrow
And she goes sailing no more
(Red sails in the sunset, way out on the sea)
Oh, carry my loved one home safely to me
Swift wings you must borrow
Make straight for the shore
We marry tomorrow
And she goes sailing no more
(Red sails in the sunset)
Way out on the sea (oh-wee-oh, wee-oh)
Oh, carry my loved one
(Home safely to me)