The South is a land that has known sorrows; it is a land that has broken the
ashen crust and moistened it with tears; a land scarred and riven by the
plowshare of war and billowed with the graves of her dead; but a land of legend, a
land of song, a land of hallowed and heroic memories. To that land every drop
of my blood, every fiber of my being, every pulsation of my heart, is
consecrated forever. I was born of her womb; I was nurtured at her breast; and when my
last hour shall come, I pray God that I may be pillowed upon her bosom and
rocked to sleep within her tender encircling arms. Edward Carmack

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