Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.

You know nothing of war. War is dark. Black as pitch. It is not a God. It does not laugh or weep. It rewards neither skill nor daring. It is not a trial of souls, not the measure of wills. Even less is it a tool, a means to some womanish end. It is merely the place where the iron bones of the earth meet the hollow bones of men and break them.

There are a few players who don&#39;t like to think about the game.

So when we start talking about the state and all those that are so important and engaged and supportive around Florida, we&#39;ve gotten overwhelming support, and it&#39;s so exciting.

Written By Katherine Harris

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