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“2. We must never cease to proclaim in fearless tones the great principles of freedom and the rights of man which through Magna Carta, the Bill of Rights, the Habeas Corpus, trial by jury, and the English common law find their most famous expression in the American Declaration of Independence.”
― Winston Churchill

“He speaks in that strange sports talk, telling me about the start of the new season and asks if I follow baseball.
No. I really don鈥檛.
He assures me if I stay in town long enough I will become a baseball fan. It鈥檚 a requirement of living in St. Louis. Everyone is a Cardinal鈥檚 fan.
鈥淟oyal,鈥� he tells me. St. Louis is a loyal town.”
― Gwenn Wright, Filter

“My compass and guiding star:
MyDaddy, that's who you are.
Discipline I learned from you,
With patience in all I do.
Sang-froid you gifted to me,
Along with versatility.
You reveal the profound beauty
Found in Family Duty.
You've instilled me with toughness,
To overcome any roughness.
Thanks to you I conquer worlds;
I strive to be MyDaddy's girl.”
― Mariecor Ruediger, From Guam to Crown City Coronado (Thanks to Hermann, Missouri): A Journey in Poesy

“And then one day we found ourselves in a cornfield. After that it seemed like the whole world was made of corn. It was just the same cornfield over and over. I got to thinking that we'd suddenly be out of it and the Manhattan skyline would pop right up on the other side. But that never happened. The corn went on forever. But eventually we hit the slave state of Missouri, with its constant panorama of rural beauty.”
― Karl Wiggins, Wrong Planet - Searching for your Tribe

“There'll be the lightning bugs with their Morse code display,
And shooting stars and constellations to befriend;
The dragonflies will keep us from going astray,
As we search for new adventures 'round every bend.
-excerpted from the poem 'The Huge Playroom that is Nature' in the book FROM GUAM TO CROWN CITY CORONADO (THANKS TO HERMANN, MISSOURI): A JOURNEY IN POESY”
― Mariecor Ruediger

“.....I'm certain I asked for a cowboy one December past--
For I wanted the excitement of pioneers to last;
I ached to sing with a fiddle, speak with a drawl and twang;
I surely requested John Wayne to be part of my gang.

Of course I dreamed of a cowboy in those Yuletides of yore--
For I wanted that ace, that corral fighter, that scout roar;
I ached for the authentic frontier hero of the West;
I surely requested the sacred battleground's finest.

I did pray Santa'd give me a cowboy some time ago--
For I wanted a legend in denim wrangler for beau;
I ached to be rounded up safely by my saddled knight;
I surely requested I be prospected, mined, settled right...


-----excerpted from the poem 'A Cowboy For Christmas' in the book FROM GUAM TO CROWN CITY CORONADO (THANKS TO HERMANN, MISSOURI): A JOURNEY IN POESY, by Mariecor Ruediger”
― Mariecor Ruediger

“The Missouri of his childhood was theoretically the inspiration for Main Street, U.S.A., though only in its halcyon summer vacation months and stripped of any dismal memories: no blizzards, no doctor's office, and no school-house. Almost no one has a dismal experience in Walt Disney's America, as a matter of fact, at least not that Walt noticed.”
― Eve Zibart, The Unofficial Disney Companion

“Yet it wasn鈥檛 the Mississippi River that captured Jim Bridger鈥檚 imagination : it was the Missouri. A mere six likes from his ferry the two great rivers joined as one, the wild waters of the frontier pouring into the bromide current of the everyday. It was the confluence of old and new, known and unknown, civilization and wilderness. Bridger lived for the rare moments when the fur traders and voyageurs tied their sleek Mackinaws at the ferry landing, sometimes even camping for the night. He marveled at their tales of savage Indians, teeming game, forever plains, and soaring mountains.
The frontier for Bridger became an aching presence that he could feel, but could not define, a magnetic force pulling him inexorably toward something that he had heard about, but never seen. A preacher on a swaybacked mule rode Bridger鈥檚 ferry one day. He asked Bridger if he knew God鈥檚 mission for him in life. Without pause Bridger answered, 鈥淕o to the Rockies鈥�. The preacher was elated, urging the boy to consider missionary work with the savages. Bridger had no interest in bringing Jesus to the Indians, but the conversation stuck with him. The boy came to believe that going west was more than just a fancy for someplace new. He came to see it as a part of his soul, a missing piece that could only be made whole on some far-off mountain or plain.”
― Michael Punke, The Revenant

“We've been called radicals, terrorists. We've been dismissed as an impossible fringe movement. But now we are a multi-racial, multi-ethnic, multi-generational, multi-faith mass movement united in demanding change, in demanding accountability, in demanding that our police, our government, our country recognize that Black lives do indeed matter.

(From election victory speech)”
― Cori Bush

“We gathered up the kids and sat up on the hill. We had no time to get our chickens and no time to get our horses out of the corral. The water came in and smacked against the corral and broke the horses' legs. The drowned, and the chickens drowned. We sat on the hill and we cried. These are the stories we tell about the river," said [Ladona] Brave Bull Allard. The granddaughter of Chief Brave Bull, she told her story at a Missouri River symposium in Bismark, North Dakota, in the fall of 2003.

Before The Flood, her Standing Rock Sioux Tribe lived in a Garden of Eden, where nature provided all their needs. "In the summer, we would plant huge gardens because the land was fertile," she recalled. We had all our potatoes and squash. We canned all the berries that grew along the river. Now we don't have the plants and the medicine they used to make.”
― Bill Lambrecht, Big Muddy Blues: True Tales and Twisted Politics Along Lewis and Clark's Missouri River

“Sergeant Missouri crouched close to the ground, pulling up his collar against the bitter, gusting winds. Show me, he thought tiredly, I'm from Missouri.”
― Maureen Daly, Small War of Sergeant Donkey

“Some mules just seem to be born with the hee-haw habit. Back home we call those fellows 'Missouri Nightingales'.”
― Maureen Daly, Small War of Sergeant Donkey

“He imagined her sitting in that overstuffed chair in the evening lamplight, reading while he read, listening while he told her how long the days would be if he did not almost believe she was with him there.”
― Marilynne Robinson, The Gilead Novels

“When Marquette asked his [Algonquin] guides what people lived on this river, they replied, "mihsoori", or "wehmihsoori" which in their Algonquin language describes a wooden canoe... Missouri is therefore translated as "people of wood canoes.”
― Michael E. Dickey, The People of the River's Mouth: In Search of the Missouria Indians (Missouri Heritage Readers)

“Language is one way of determining relationships among American Indian nations. The Missouria are of the Siouan-language family, speaking a dialect known as the Chiwere. Other tribes speaking this dialect were the Ho Chunk (Winnebago), the Wahtohtana (Otoe, and the Baxoje (Ioway). William Clark said these tribes spoke the same language and correctly surmised they were "once one great nation.”
― Michael E. Dickey, The People of the River's Mouth: In Search of the Missouria Indians (Missouri Heritage Readers)

“Guess & Co. extends its expertise to organizations, including colleges, universities, and non-profits in rural and neighboring urban communities.”
― Guess & Co.

“Our overarching mission is to deliver inclusive capitalism to rural, urban, and global communities. We are passionate about enabling our clients and customers to participate in the modern economic system, regardless of their location or circumstances.”
― Guess & Co. Corporation Holding Co., Inc

“It is foolish to think that you do not make an impact, good or bad, our very existence impacts everything and everyone around us”
― Jerry D. Guess

“Na biblioteca da universidade passeava entre a estantes, em meio a milhares de livros, inalando o odor mofado do couro, do tecido e das p谩ginas ressecadas como se fosse um incenso ex贸tico. 脌s vezes se detinha, tirava um volume das prateleiras e o segurava em suas m茫os grandes, que vibravam com o contato, ainda ins贸lito, com a lombada, a capa e as p谩ginas d贸ceis. Depois, folheava o livro, lendo um par谩grafo aqui e ali, seus dedos r铆gidos virando as p谩ginas, quase temerosos de destruir com seu desajeitamento o precioso conte煤do.

N茫o tinha amigos, pela primeira vez em sua vida teve consci锚ncia de sua 蝉辞濒颈诲茫辞. 脌s vezes, de noite em seu s贸t茫o, erguia os olhos de um livro que estava lendo e espiava os cantos escuros de seu quarto, onde a luz do lampi茫o tremulava contra as sombras. Se olhasse fixo e atentamente, a escurid茫o se reuniria numa luz, que assumia a forma insubstancial do que estivera lendo. E ele sentia que estava fora do tempo, como sentira naquele dia na aula em que Archer Sloane falara com ele. O passado avolumava-se da escurid茫o onde jazia, e os mortos se erguiam para viver 脿 sua frente, e juntos, flu铆am para o presente entre os vivos, e assim, por um intenso instante, ele tinha a sensa莽茫o de unir-se a eles numa 煤nica e densa realidade da qual n茫o podia escapar. Trist茫o, Isolda a bela, caminhavam 脿 sua frente; Helena, e o brilhantes Paris, seus rostos graves de amargura, erguiam-se da treva. E Stoner se sentia mais pr贸ximo deles do que de seus colegas que iam de aula em aula, hospedados numa grande universidade em Columbia, no Missouri, e que caminhavam distra铆dos em meio ao ar do Midwest.”
― John Williams, Stoner: A Novel