All that is gold does not glitter

Not all those who wander are lost

The old who are strong do not whither

Deep roots are not reached by the frost

From the ashes a fire shall be woken

A light from the shadow will spring

Renewed be the blade that was broken

The crownless again shall be king

WILD

The last thing "being wild" means is seeking drug-thrills or being promiscuous. Wild does not mean hanging out in a bar, getting drunk, and wrecking your new car in a cow pasture. Wild is not about your gang slipping into the school at night and trashing the hallways and running off into the night howling with feral laughter. Wild is about real adventure, either in the world, or in the mind.

bowerbirds

The male crestless bowerbird is completely drab. His plumage is indistinguishable from the female's. His bower has therefore grown more elaborate to take the place of colorful feathers. He gathers insect skeletons, shells, seeds and charcoal, and arranges them in neat piles in his bower. While bobbing about to attract the female, he holds a colorful object, usually a flower, in his bill.

The times we had

Oh, when the wind would blow with rain and snow

Were not all bad

We put our feet just where they had, had to go

Never to go

The shattered soul

Following close but nearly twice as slow

In my good times

There were always golden rocks to throw

At those who admit defeat too late

Those were our times, those were our times

And I will love to see that day

That day is mine

When she will marry me outside with the willow trees

And play the songs we made

They made me so

And I would love to see that day

Her day was mine

Warpaint - Undertow