There are no limits to either time or distance, except as man himself may make them. I have but to touch the wind to know these things. – Hal Borland
March is a tomboy with tousled hair, a mischievous smile, mud on her shoes and a laugh in her voice. – Hal Borland
Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night; and thus he would never know the rhythms that are at the heart of life. – Hal Borland
Here comes February, a little girl with her first valentine, a red bow in her wind-blown hair, a kiss waiting on her lips, a tantrum just back of her laughter. – Hal Borland