Blue Ridge Mountain Quotes

We stood there, four generations of Farrow women, cursed to live between worlds. But in that moment, in the valley of the Blue Ridge Mountains, we existed only in one.

But if I had to choose between where I live and you, I'd rip up everything I own because the only landscape worth looking is the landscape of the human body. I kiss your Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. I kiss your Missouri and Monongahela and Susquehanna and Shenandoah and Rio Grande. I kiss the confluence of all those rivers. I kiss your amber waves of grain. I kiss your spacious skies, your rocket's red glare, your hand I love, your purple mountain'd majesty. But most of all I kiss your head. I kiss the place where we make our decisions. I kiss the place where we keep our resolves. The place where we do our dreams. I kiss the place behind the eyes where we store up secrets and knowledge to save us if we're caught in a corridor on a dark, wintry evening.

You must find a place on a woman's body and live there. In the dark, the noise far away, Sam ran his hands over Calliope's body and the world of work and worry seemed to move away. He found two depressions at the bottom of her back where sunlight collected, and he lived there, out of the wind and noise. He grew old there, died and ascended to the Great Spirit, found heaven in her cheek on his chest, the warm wind of her breath across his stomach carried sweet grass and sage, and... In another lifetime he had lived on the soft skin under her right breast, his lips riding light over the ridge and valley of every rib, shuffling through downy, dew damp hairs like a child dancing through autumn leaves. In the mountain of her breast, he fasted at the medicine wheel of her aureole, received a vision that he and she were steam people, mingled wet with no skin seperating them. And there he lived, happy. She followed, traveled, lived with him and in him as he was in her. They lived lifetimes and slept and dreamed together. It was swell.

Beyond the wall of the unreal city … there is another world waiting for you. It is the old true world of the deserts, the mountains, the forests, the islands, the shores, the open plains. Go there. Be there. Walk gently and quietly deep within it. And then — May your trails be dim, lonesome, stony, narrow, winding and only slightly uphill. May the wind bring rain for the slickrock potholes fourteen miles on the other side of yonder blue ridge. May God's dog serenade your campfire, may the rattlesnake and the screech owl amuse your reverie, may the Great Sun dazzle your eyes by day and the Great Bear watch over you by night.

I want my life to be a celebration of slowness. Walking through the sage from our front door, I am gradually drawn into the well-worn paths of deer. They lead me to Round Mountain and the bloodred side canyons below Castle Rock. Sometimes I see them, but often I don't. Deer are quiet creatures, who, when left to their own nature, move slowly. Their large black eyes absorb all shadows, especially the flash of predators. And their ears catch each word spoken. But today they walk ahead with their halting prance, one leg raised, then another, and allow me to follow them. I am learning how to not provoke fear and flight among deer. We move into a pink, sandy wash, their black-tipped tails like eagle feathers. I lose sight of them as they disappear around the bend. On the top of the ridge I can see for miles.... Inside this erosional landscape where all colors eventually bleed into the river, it is hard to desire anything but time and space. Time and space. In the desert there is space. Space is the twin sister of time. If we have open space then we have open time to breath, to dream, to dare, to play, to pray to move freely, so freely, in a world our minds have forgotten but our bodies remember. Time and space. This partnership is holy. In these redrock canyons, time creates space--an arch, an eye, this blue eye of sky. We remember why we love the desert; it is our tactile response to light, to silence, and to stillness. Hand on stone -- patience. Hand on water -- music.

The park is high. And as out of a house I step out of its glimmering half-light into openness and evening. Into the wind, the same wind that the clouds feel, the bright rivers and the turning mills that stand slowly grinding at the sky's edge. Now I too am a thing held in its hand, the smallest thing under the sky. --Look: Is that one sky?: Blissfully lucid blue, into which ever purer clouds throng, and under it all white in endless changes, and over it that huge, thin-spun gray, pulsing warmly as on red underpaint, and over everything this silent radiance of a setting sun. Miraculous structure, moved within itself and upheld by itself, shaping figures, giant wings, faults and high mountain ridges before the first star and suddenly, there: a gate into such distances as perhaps only birds know...

I was still a boy when I left the Ozarks, only sixteen years old. Since that day, I’ve left my footprints in many lands: the frozen wastelands of the Arctic, the bush country of Old Mexico, and the steaming jungles of Yucatán. Throughout my life, I’ve been a lover of the great outdoors. I have built campfires in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, and hunted wild turkey in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee and the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. I have climbed the Grand Tetons of Wyoming, and hunted bull elk in the primitive area of Idaho. I can truthfully say that, regardless of where I have roamed or wandered, I have always looked for the fairy ring. I have never found one, but I’ll keep looking and hoping. If the day ever comes that I walk up to that snow-white circle, I’ll step into the center of it, kneel down, and make one wish, for in my heart I believe in the legend of the rare fairy ring.

If I be just a page torn out of a book, May I sail forever over the oceans blue, Float over the treetops and the mountains too, Drift across the valleys and the flowers look, Until at last, I rest and kiss the morning dew.

Every time you behold the Blue Ridge Mountains, every time you feel a snowflake on your eyelashes, every time you see a frog on a lily pad, every time a friend gives you his hand, Brooks, God loves you. You’re surrounded by His love. We look for it in all the wrong places as we pray for worldly success. We say that must be proof of God’s love. Some people pray not for material success but for an easy life.” He shook his head. “No, even our pains are a sign of His love, for they will lead you to the right path, if you’ll only listen.

Maybe God was shaping situations and circumstances to form a better story with grander vistas than Jeb could ever imagine.

The Blue Ridge Mountains surrounding the McTavish mansion are indeed stunning, but they are also full of hidden dangers—steep cliffs, boggy areas, and, of course, wild animals.

When the air gets heavy so it's hard to breathe, you know what's coming. The birds come down from the ridges and hide in the hollows and in the pines. Heavy black clouds float over the mountain, and you run for the cabin. From the cabin porch we would watch the big bars of light that stand for a full second, maybe two, on the mountaintop, running out feelers or lightning wire in all directions before they're jerked back into the sky. Cracking claps of sound, so sharp you know something has split wide open--then the thunder rolls and rumbles over the ridges and back through the hollows. I was pretty near sure, a time or two, that the mountains was falling down, but Granpa said they wasn't. Which of course, they didn't. Then it comes again--and rolls blue fireballs of rocks on the ridge tops and splatters the blue in the air. The trees whip and bend in the sudden rushes of wind, and the sweep of heavy rain comes thunking from the clouds in big drops, letting you know there's some real frog-strangling sheets of water coming close behind.

That ride was perhaps the most wonderful thing that happened to them in Narnia. Have you ever had a gallop on a horse? Think of that; and then take away the heavy noise of the hoofs and the jingle of the bit and imagine instead the almost noiseless padding of the great paws. Then imagine instead of the black or grey or chestnut back of the horse the soft roughness of golden fur, and the mane flying back in the wind. And then imagine you are going about twice as fast as the fastest racehorse. But this is a mount that doesn't need to be guided and never grows tired. He rushes on and on, never missing his footing, never hesitating, threading his way with perfect skill between tree trunks, jumping over bush and briar and the smaller streams, wading the larger, swimming the largest of all. And you are riding not on a road nor in a park nor even on the downs, but right across Narnia, in spring, down solemn avenues of beech and across sunny glades of oak, through wild orchards of snow-white cherry trees, past roaring waterfalls and mossy rocks and echoing caverns, up windy slopes alight with gorse bushes, and across the shoulders of heathery mountains and along giddy ridges and down, down, down again into wild valleys and out into acres of blue flowers.

If there is something, though, if there is...well, I believe in the things I love...the feel of a good horse under me, the blue along those mountains over yonder, the firm, confident feel of a good gunbutt in my hand, the way the red gold of your hair looks against your throat. The creak of a saddle in the hot sun and the long riding, the way you feel when you come to the top of a ridge and look down across miles and miles of land you have never seen, or maybe no man has ever seen. I believe in the pleasant sound of running water, the way the leaves turn red in the fall. I believe in the smell of autumn leaves burning, and the crackle of a burning log. Sort of sounds like it was chuckling over the memories of a time when it was a tree. I like the sound of rain on a roof, and the look of a fire in a fireplace, and the embers of a campfire and coffee in the morning. I believe in the solid, hearty, healthy feel of a of a fist landing, the feel of a girl in my arms, warm and close. Those are the things that matter.

Relationships were built on small moments, not grand gestures. Since we started dating, we hiked the Blue Ridge Mountains, gone bungee jumping and skydiving in New Zealand, and dined at the finest restaurants, but we didn't need any of that to be happy. We just needed each other.

I cannot conceive of an enlightenment as a sustained state, static once achieved. But I have had moments of illumination as bright and flashing as fish. They arrive unannounced, without fanfare--say, stepping off the Sixth Avenue bus or walking the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The sky turns lavender in the evening. Is that divine? I know it is the beauty of the material world, that I feel it in my body, and that it means something to me--that my breath will catch in my throat, that it fades almost as soon as it arrives, that I will be stunned again at its sudden reappearance.

The Country Sonnet I stand beneath the southern sky, Looking up at the heavenly bodies. The twinkling stars know no color, Then why we mortals beneath act so puny! Country means heart, country means humility, All that is pure is born in the country. How could we poison its innocent soul, By our savage escapades of bigotry! It's high time we be the example of kindness, For the streams of Mississippi carry acceptance. Behold ye all blind with confederate pride, Conscience rises above the Blue Ridge Mountains. Let's resuscitate the country with love and passion. We'll turn this land into a cradle of amalgamation.

Hiding had been effortless in New York City. Getting lost in a sea of people was as easy as stepping onto a crowded Subway car. Sweet Laurel Cove would be very different. Generations of families filled its church pews, ran its farms, and schooled its children. Anonymity was as rare as lightning bugs in wintertime—as her grandmother would say.

Say you could view a time lapse film of our planet: what would you see? Transparent images moving through light, “an infinite storm of beauty.” The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth’s face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting, and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up- mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back. A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash-frames. Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and crumble, like paths of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cities appear, and rivers sift silt onto their rooftops; more cities emerge and spread in lobes like lichen on rock. The great human figures of history, those intricate, spirited tissues whose split second in the light was too brief an exposure to yield any image but the hunched shadowless figures of ghosts. Slow it down more, come closer still. A dot appears, a flesh-flake. It swells like a balloon; it moves, circles, slows, and vanishes. This is your life.

Several shades of hazy blue hung over the landscape like a heavy tapestry, giving the Blue Ridge Mountains its name. I stopped at one of the scenic overlooks, switched off the bike, and sat in the absolute stillness of the mountains. Their silence was a soothing balm for my soul. The maternal rhythm of nature is a tonic that heals emotionally. I just wanted to sit still, breathe deeply, and match my heartbeat to that rhythm.

The question rolled around in Vanessa’s mind as she drove down Main Street. The sleepy town of Hyattown had changed very little in twelve years. It was still tucked in the foothills of Maryland’s Blue Ridge Mountains, surrounded by rolling farmland and thick woods. Apple orchards and dairy cows encroached as close as the town limits, and here, inside those limits, there were no stoplights, no office buildings, no hum of traffic.

The sword of justice need flash but once in the darkness. The light that shone from its blade would tell the world that the dawn was not far off. But men knew that a single glint from a Japanese sword was like the pale blue of daybreak along a mountain ridge.

Say you could view a time-lapse film of our planet: what would you see? Transparent images moving through light, “an infinite storm of beauty.” The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth’s face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by a widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up-mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back. A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too swift and intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash frames. Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and then crumble, like patches of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cities appear, and rivers sift silt onto their rooftops; more cities emerge and spread in lobes like lichen on rock. The great human figures of history, those intricate, spirited tissues that roamed the earth’s surface, are a wavering blur whose split second in the light was too brief an exposure to yield any images. The great herds of caribou pour into the valleys and trickle back, and pour, a brown fluid. Slow it down more, come closer still. A dot appears, like a flesh-flake. It swells like a balloon; it moves, circles, slows, and vanishes. This is your life.

There in the highlands, clear weather held for much of the time. The air lacked its usual haze, and the view stretched on and on across rows of blue mountains, each paler than the last until the final ranks were indistinguishable from the sky. It was as if all the world might be composed of nothing but valley and ridge.

On every side lay ridges covered with blue-green fir trees; above them rose the horny backbones of mountains. The sky was very low; purplish lead-coloured clouds let down curtains of mist into the valleys between the pine ridges. There was not a glimmer of white light in the dark vapours working overhead—rather, they took on the cold green of the evergreens.

Growing up where she did, Beatrix had developed a romantic and adventurous nature, and she had no outlet for it any more. The happiest times I can remember spending with them were when we drove out - twice, I think - to the Long Mynd for a picnic. Roger had long since traded in his motorbike and scraped together enough money to buy a second-hand Morris Minor. Somehow we all squeezed into this (I seem to recall sitting in the front passenger seat, Beatrix sitting behind me with the baby on her lap) and drove out for the afternoon to those wonderful Shropshire hills. I wonder if you have ever walked on them yourself, Imogen. They are part of your story, you know. So many things have changed, changed beyond recognition, in the almost sixty years since the time I'm now recalling, but the Long Mynd is not one of them. In the last few months I have been too ill to walk there, but I did manage to visit in the last spring, to offer what I already sensed would be my final farewells. Places like this are important to me - to all of us - because they exist outside the normal timespan. You can stand on the backbone of the Long Mynd and not know if you are in the 1940s, the 2000s, the tenth or eleventh century... It is all immaterial, all irrelevant. The gorse and the purple heather are unchanging, and so are the sheeptracks which cut through them and criss-cross them, the twisted rocky outcrops which surprise you at every turn, the warm browns of the bracken, the distant greys of the conifer plantations, tucked far away down in secretive valleys. You cannot put a price on the sense of freedom and timelessness that is granted to you there, as you stand on the high ridge beneath a flawless sky of April blue and look across at the tame beauties of the English countryside, to the east, and to the west a hint of something stranger - the beginnings of the Welsh mountains

Chapter One: The Dawn and the Dread Heartbeat, heartbeat comes from Valhallan way, To meet down in judgment, to ply its trade. Two →swords← to join in worthy cross, Actions to be rendered, one to be lost. She did come now from ’yond northern slope, A day of reckoning did she again once hope. A devout meeting was her qwesterly bane, To stay her hand was to go insane. St. Kari of the Blade to meet her past, A wicked enemy, peerless of match. Rode Kari she her charger on down, Past the Dead Land where Gaul sat crowned. A killing job, yea, she desired to lastly kill, To set things right so her heart might lie still. Upon the mist and roaring plain, She entered in, a soul uncontained. A fierce wind in deed, and forever freed, Enemies she annihilhates (’tis hur’ creed). Her own advanced guard of a sort, Multitudes to follow in her report. Know this Valkyrie from on cold, An ancient maiden soft and bold. A warrior spirit from Ages past, A fragmented mind like broken glass. Solid in stature this eternal framed being, Yet crippled within from internaled bleedings. A sword saint so refined in the poetic art, A noble character yet with a banshee’s heart. Rhythmed horse now to the beats, Kari emboldened amid the sleet. Beyond the mountain she does come, Unto southern fields wherein rules hot sun. Far from that murderous Deadlands ground, The land up swells; the dead still abound. Traverses she those bygones of leprous civilizations Those cities crumbled by the exhalted of oblivions. Stark traces etched now bare in the land, That are no more again, save dust in the hand. A cool stream now in desert sans (Does more good when one is damned). Stopped she her mount to admire the flow, A lovely stream with skeletons packed below. Blue air whisps; dragon flied motion. Flintsteel striking!!! Sparked of commotion. Cold water chortles rushtish with tint, Told of past carnage, it whetted her glint. Fallen warriors, they are no more, Swirls and eddies mark their discord. Gurgled shouts slung and gathered, Faces glazed while steel lathered. Refreshing though it was to her mouth, She smelled an air; she flared about. Came up that ridge of loud, sanded hill, Below a man and his half-score of kills. Kari’s eyes waxed in smug contempt, Possibilities ran deep with no repent . . . On Kari, Valkyrie, Cold Steel Eternity Vol. II

Ascent To The Sierras poet Robinson Jeffers #140 on top 500 poets Poet's PagePoemsCommentsStatsE-BooksBiographyQuotationsShare on FacebookShare on Twitter Poems by Robinson Jeffers : 8 / 140 « prev. poem next poem » Ascent To The Sierras Beyond the great valley an odd instinctive rising Begins to possess the ground, the flatness gathers to little humps and barrows, low aimless ridges, A sudden violence of rock crowns them. The crowded orchards end, they have come to a stone knife; The farms are finished; the sudden foot of the slerra. Hill over hill, snow-ridge beyond mountain gather The blue air of their height about them. Here at the foot of the pass The fierce clans of the mountain you'd think for thousands of years, Men with harsh mouths and eyes like the eagles' hunger, Have gathered among these rocks at the dead hour Of the morning star and the stars waning To raid the plain and at moonrise returning driven Their scared booty to the highlands, the tossing horns And glazed eyes in the light of torches. The men have looked back Standing above these rock-heads to bark laughter At the burning granaries and the farms and the town That sow the dark flat land with terrible rubies... lighting the dead... It is not true: from this land The curse was lifted; the highlands have kept peace with the valleys; no blood in the sod; there is no old sword Keeping grim rust, no primal sorrow. The people are all one people, their homes never knew harrying; The tribes before them were acorn-eaters, harmless as deer. Oh, fortunate earth; you must find someone To make you bitter music; how else will you take bonds of the future, against the wolf in men's hearts?

Abel joined hands with Rylie, drawing her into the pack as the energy of the moon swept over them. The huge, silvery sphere hung over the ridges of the mountains, turning the trees into blue shadows and making the waterfall sparkle. “Ready?” Abel asked. Rylie tilted her face toward the moon, drinking in its rays, spreading her energy through the pack. “Yes,” she whispered. She allowed all of her wolves to change at once, drawing their pain away so that they could shift effortlessly into their second skins. Fur blossomed like flowers facing the sun. They were a dozen different shades of gray and brown and gold—huge, beautiful beasts that Rylie could never see as monsters. Rylie and Abel changed last. He was black, and she was gold. Together, they were the sun and the night, yin and yang. She was afraid to face her mother, afraid to see Jessica’s reaction. But she wasn’t going to try to hide from her mom anymore. Rylie turned to her proudly—Alpha of the pack. Jessica’s hands covered her mouth, eyes filled with tears. “You’re beautiful,” she said. Rylie’s heart swelled. Abel rammed his face into hers, as if to say, I told you so. The pack ran into the night, and Rylie was home.

It was an amazing experience,” I said. “By remembering the love I felt I was able to open up. I sat up there all day simmering in it. I didn’t reach the state I experienced on the ridge but I got close.” Sanchez looked more serious. “The role of love has been misunderstood for a long time. Love is not something we should do to be good or to make the world a better place out of some abstract moral responsibility, or because we should give up our hedonism. Connecting with energy feels like excitement, then euphoria, and then love. Finding enough energy to maintain that state of love certainly helps the world, but it most directly helps us. It is the most hedonistic thing we can do.” I agreed, then noticed he had moved his chair back several more feet and was looking at me intensely, his eyes unfocused. “So what does my field look like,” I asked. “It is much larger,” he said. “I think you feel very good.” “I do.” “Good. That is what we do here.” “Tell me about that,” I said. “We train priests to go farther into the mountains and work with the Indians. It is a lonely job and the priests must have great strength. All of the men here have been screened thoroughly and all have one thing in common: each has had one experience he calls mystical. “I have been studying this kind of experience for many years,” he continued, “even before the Manuscript was found, and I believe that when one has already encountered a mystical experience, getting back into this state and raising one’s personal energy level comes much easier. Others can also connect but it takes longer. A strong memory of the experience, as I think you learned, facilitates its re-creation. After that, one slowly builds back.” “What does a person’s energy field look like when this is happening?” “It grows outward and changes color slightly.” “What color?” “Normally from a dull white toward green and blue. But the most important thing is that it expands. For instance, during your mystical encounter on the ridge top, your energy flashed outward into the whole universe. Essentially you connected and drew energy from the entire cosmos and in turn your energy swelled to encompass everything, everywhere. Can you remember how that felt?” “Yeah,” I said. “I felt as though the entire universe was my body and I was just the head, or perhaps more accurately, the eyes.” “Yes,” he said, “and at that moment, your energy field and that of the universe were the same. The universe was your body.

The fact is,” said Van Gogh, “the fact is that we are painters in real life, and the important thing is to breathe as hard as ever we can breathe.” So I breathe. I breathe at the open window above my desk, and a moist fragrance assails me from the gnawed leaves of the growing mock orange. This air is as intricate as the light that filters through forested mountain ridges and into my kitchen window; this sweet air is the breath of leafy lungs more rotted than mine; it has sifted through the serrations of many teeth. I have to love these tatters. And I must confess that the thought of this old yard breathing alone in the dark turns my mind to something else. I cannot in all honesty call the world old when I’ve seen it new. On the other hand, neither will honesty permit me suddenly to invoke certain experiences of newness and beauty as binding, sweeping away all knowledge. But I am thinking now of the tree with the lights in it, the cedar in the yard by the creek I saw transfigured. That the world is old and frayed is no surprise; that the world could ever become new and whole beyond uncertainty was, and is, such a surprise that I find myself referring all subsequent kinds of knowledge to it. And it suddenly occurs to me to wonder: were the twigs of the cedar I saw really bloated with galls? They probably were; they almost surely were. I have seen these “cedar apples” swell from that cedar’s green before and since: reddish gray, rank, malignant. All right then. But knowledge does not vanquish mystery, or obscure its distant lights. I still now and will tomorrow steer by what happened that day, when some undeniably new spirit roared down the air, bowled me over, and turned on the lights. I stood on grass like air, air like lightning coursed in my blood, floated my bones, swam in my teeth. I’ve been there, seen it, been done by it. I know what happened to the cedar tree, I saw the cells in the cedar tree pulse charged like wings beating praise. Now, it would be too facile to pull everything out of the hat and say that mystery vanquishes knowledge. Although my vision of the world of the spirit would not be altered a jot if the cedar had been purulent with galls, those galls actually do matter to my understanding of this world. Can I say then that corruption is one of beauty’s deep-blue speckles, that the frayed and nibbled fringe of the world is a tallith, a prayer shawl, the intricate garment of beauty? It is very tempting, but I cannot. But I can, however, affirm that corruption is not beauty’s very heart and I can I think call the vision of the cedar and the knowledge of these wormy quarryings twin fjords cutting into the granite cliffs of mystery and say the new is always present simultaneously with the old, however hidden. The tree with the lights in it does not go out; that light still shines on an old world, now feebly, now bright. I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wandering awed about on a splintered wreck I’ve come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe a delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions, and whose beauty beats and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them, under the wind-rent clouds, upstream and down.

It was the end of March and, even though the weather hadn't warmed noticeably at this elevation, the winter buds had begun to swell on the oaks, giving them the quality of knots in fine lace against the gray overcast.

Transfixed, she exits the car in a dream-like state, and I grin and follow. I pass a handful of tables to join her where she sits on the waist-high rock wall lining the cliff. Before us is an endless view of the peaks and valleys of the Blue Ridge Mountains. We spend a few minutes in comfortable silence.

the

It was that time of day, or night, that happens only a few weeks a year at a certain hour in certain parts of the American West. The sun sets behind mountains but the cloudless sky that is more than cloudless, it is lens clear – clear as the clearest water - holds the light entirely, holds it in a bowl of pale blue as if reluctant to let it go. The light refines the edges of the ridges to something honed and the muted colors of the pines on the slopes, the sage-roughened fields, the houses in the valley – the colors pulse with the pleasure of release, as if they know that within the hour they too will rest.

It was that time of day, or night, that happens only a few weeks a year at a certain hour in certain parts of the American West. The sun sets behind mountains but the cloudless sky that is more than cloudless, it is lens clear -clear as the clearest water - holds the light entirely, holds it in a pale blue as if reluctant to let it go. The light refines the edges of the ridges to something honed, and the muted colors of the pines on the slopes, the sage-roughened fields, the houses in the valley - the colors pulse with the pleasure of release, as if they know that within the hour they too will rest.

How to Taste An Apple: I find it mildly irksome to see someone eating an apple while walking down the street, unaware that a body sense event is happening, and perhaps focusing on something else entirely at the time. Ideally, one should select a fruit of known ripeness and take it with a plate and knife to a quiet place. Slice it to mouth-size portions, either all at once or as you eat, and when the slice is in the mouth, concentrate on the mouthfeel and the flavor. It may immediately enliven the taste buds or slowly unfold its complexity. Analyze the sugar, tannin, acid, and aroma of what you taste and if it is elusive do not despair: the magic of the taste of a particular variety may be its elusiveness. If given full attention, the act of eating an apple can become a mind-expanding experience.

family doesn't have anything to do with shared genetics. DNA results do, but family is the people you have in your life who are safe, supportive, and love you. That's what matters.

They left the village on a clear morning at dawn. In the early sunlight the whole of the Caucasus range, each single indentation, could be seen, brilliantly white with deep blue hollows, apparently so close at hand that a stranger to the region might have thought it mere two hours' drive away. It towered so vast above petty human creation, so elemental in a man-made world, that even if all the men who had lived in all the past millennia had opened their arms as wide as they could and carried everything they had ever created or intended to create and piled it all up in massive heaps, they could never have raised a mountain ridge as fantastic as the Caucasus.

Their eyes locked. Again, heat rose to Livy's cheeks. He needed to stop looking at her that way. She never should have noticed the captivating hue of his sky-blue eyes. When was the last time a man flustered her like this. Maybe never.

spine as she sneaked a look down the forested slope. The Blue Ridge Mountains were sheathed in October’s mellow gold, but the leaves were steadily raining down in the breeze as the forest braced for winter’s sleep.

Livy hadn’t anticipated meeting anyone and wasn’t ready to explain why the last few years of her life had worn her so much, leaving her searching for home. Surely, Jack didn’t care to hear a sob story from a perfect stranger. Actually, Livy wasn’t sure she believed that. Something whispered inside her soul that Jack was just the person she needed to tell.

Bernice had told her once that you could feel some patient through the walls like heat through an oven door, that the ones with troubled spirits radiated that trouble out into the nearby air.

inflicted any number of infections, but it wasn’t like she could hobble into the ER and have modern medicine deal with it. In After, there were no insurance plans. She leaned against a tree, its rough bark rubbing her spine as she sneaked a look down the forested slope. The Blue Ridge Mountains were sheathed in October’s mellow gold, but the leaves were steadily raining down in the breeze as the forest braced for winter’s sleep. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them. Their footfalls were heavy in the crisp leaves, as if the Zapheads had no awareness of the noise they were making. Stephen was higher up the ridge, making better time than she was, but the boy had stopped to wait for her. Little dude

Legna,” Yahweh’s voice rumbles through the heavens. Legna takes flight. Leaving Blue Ridge Mountain soil behind, he soars through the sky and into the heavens. Bowing low, he says. “Adonai, You called for me.” “Unleash the warring angels on Satan’s demons.” In his human form, Legna would be smiling. “Yes, Adonai.” He stands and backs out from Adonai’s presence, never turning, covering his feet with his wings.

Anxious to defend his adopted city—especially his side of town, the less fashionable west end—Eli considered giving Veronica a condensed lecture on the history of Asheville, North Carolina. 1880: the Western North Carolina Railroad completed a line from Salisbury to Asheville, which later enabled George Washington Vanderbilt to construct the Biltmore Estate, the largest private residence in America. Over time, that 179,000 square foot house transitioned into a multi- million dollar company. Which lured in tourists. Who created thousands of jobs. Which caused the sprawl flashing by Eli’s window at fifty-five miles per hour. But Eli refrained from being the Local Know-It-All, remembering all the times he’d traveled to new cities and some cabbie wanted to play docent, wanted to tell him about the real Cleveland or the hidden Miami. Instead, he let the air conditioner chase away the remnants of his jet lag and thought about Almario “Go Go” Gato. He waited for Veronica to say something about the Blue Ridge Mountains, which stood alongside the highway, hovering over the valley below like stoic parents waiting for their kids to clean up their messy bedrooms. Eli gave her points for her silence. And for ditching the phone, even if she kept glancing anxiously toward the glove compartment every time it buzzed. The car rode smooth, hardly a bump. For a resident of Los Angeles, she drove cautiously, obeying all traffic laws. Eli had a perfect driving record. Well, almost perfect. There was that time he drove the Durham Bulls’ chartered Greyhound into the right field fence during the seventh inning stretch. But that was history. Almost ancient.

A valley that had some of the characteristics of a canyon yawned beneath, so deep and wide that it appeared like a blue lake, so long that he could only see the north end, which notched under a rugged mountain slope, green and black and golden and white according to the successive steps toward the heights. The height upon which he stood was the last of the ridges, for the elevation that lay directly across was a noble range of foothills, timbered, canyoned, apparently insurmountable for horses. Gray cliffs stood out of the green, crags of yellow rock mounted like castles.

I believe North Carolina is going to be a very important place in holding positive energy for this part of the world as we go through our next evolution on a body, mind, spirit, and planetary level. I believe that North Carolina is evolving into a light center for the United States. I see the symbolism with the lighthouses all along the North Carolina coast, shining brightly. They remind me of the great lighthouse in Alexandria, Egypt, where the world’s greatest library once existed. On the other end of the state lie the mystical Blue Ridge Mountains, one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world, and with vortices in the area spinning with so much energy in cities like Asheville that the area has been nicknamed the Sedona of the South, in reference to the vortices and spiritual energy

The mountains rose up protectively around him, hugging him snug and safe beneath a slice of bright blue sky that was sandwiched between green ridges like the white stuff in the middle of an Oreo cookie.

P.S. For those who don’t believe in ghosts we have a remedy. The first night of the full moon in October walk to the top of King’s Mountain and then down the path to Colonel Ferguson’s grave. Spend the next night watching the Brown Mountain lights alone from a deserted overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway. And, on the third night go alone at midnight to the Devil’s Tramping Ground near Siler City and wait for the moon to set. This will restore your faith.

Sonnet of Identity Tell me O Mississippi, What is my name? For I lost my sense of self, In line of service without gain. Dear mountains of Blue Ridge, Where did I come from? I fathom not the worldly titles, I deny narrowness as the norm. Character makes the person, Not pedigree and tradition. If I can lift even five lives, That’ll be my highest salvation. So forget that I asked about my identity. Service is my culture and my nationality.

digging up some of the perennials that needed dividing, and bringing them back to a small sunny strip he had fitted out as a garden in his new place in the mountains.

Eastward the Barrow-downs rose, ridge behind ridge into the morning, and vanished out of eyesight into a guess: it was no more than a guess of blue and a remote white glimmer blending with the hem of the sky, but it spoke to them, out of memory and old tales, of the high and distant mountains.

Steep black-cindered slope, with its soft gray patches of grass, sheered down and down, and out in rolling slope to merge upon a cedar-dotted level. Nothing moved below, but a red-tailed hawk sailed across her vision. How still-how gray the desert floor as it reached away, losing its black dots, and gaining bronze spots of stone! By plain and prairie it fell away, each inch of gray in her sight magnifying into its league-long roll, On and on, and down across dark lines that were steppes, and at last blocked and changed by the meandering green thread which was the verdure of a desert river. Beyond stretched the white sand, where whirlwinds of dust sent aloft their funnel-shaped spouts; and it led up to the horizon-wide ribs and ridges of red and walls of yellow and mountains of black, to the dim mound of purple so ethereal and mystic against the deep-blue cloud-curtained band of sky.

Imagine someone with an actual beating heart, who claims to love baseball, looking at a spreadsheet on a computer at a Fifth Avenue Starbucks and deciding that the national pastime in the very places where it truly touches the hearts of that nation might be better off without McCormick Field. Without the next Ron McKee or Gary Saunders. Without James the Mountain Man bracing snakebites to retrieve baseballs. Without the Circuit Rider and the Two-Eyed Redeemer galloping in to save souls before a Sunday-afternoon matinee. Without jazz saxophone national anthems, panty-less miniskirt haircuts atop the home team dugout, and mascot fights. Without a McCormick Field sunset, settling in over the ballpark as fireworks explode overhead and-sure-, why not?-Alabama's "Cheap Seats" reverberating off the trees, the forest, and the honeysuckle vines that line the magnificent little bandbox carved into a nook of the Blue Ridge Mountains. That's the imagery I carry in my head. It's what I see in my mind's eye the very instant someone mentions the Asheville Tourists or McCormick Field. It has been that way every single day of my life since the summer of 1994, and it will be that way until I depart this Earth to be rejoined by Julio the Cat.

swung his long legs out of bed, and plunged his feet into a basin of cold water—a lifelong habit he believed good for his health.2,3,4 At Monticello, his plantation in the Southwest Mountains near the Blue Ridge of Virginia, the metal bucket brought to Jefferson every morning wore a groove on the floor next to the alcove where he slept.5 Six foot two and a half, Jefferson was nearly fifty-eight years old in the Washington winter of 1800–1801.6 His sandy hair, reddish in his youth, was graying; his freckled skin—always susceptible to the sun—was wrinkling a bit.7,8,9 His eyes were penetrating but elusive, alternately described as blue, hazel, or brown.10 He had great teeth.11 It was early February 1801. The capital, with its muddy avenues and scattered buildings, was in chaos, and had been for weeks.12 The future of the presidency was

The first day they spied the Blue Ridge Mountains from their wagon train, Mr. Davis had bid them stop and set up camp. What a glorious feast for the eyes.

Amidst the blue ridge mountains, there are remarkable expressions of life. Tapestries woven by generations that are always on trial by those who amputate hope from what once was native land. Digesting each day, the unpleasant taste of yesterday's homemade buttermilk.

The road clung to the spine of the ridge, sidewinding in sinuous loops toward the blue smokes of Smoky Mountain where deposits of coal, ignited by lightning some long-gone summer afternoon a thousand—ten thousand?—years before, smoldered beneath the surface of the mountain’s shoulders. There seemed to be no pursuit. But why should there be? They hadn’t done anything wrong. So far they had done everything right. Down on the alkali flats where only saltbush, cholla and snakeweed grew, they met a small herd of baldface cows ambling up to the higher country. Beef on the hoof, looking for trouble. What Smith liked to call “slow elk,” regarding them with satisfaction as a reliable outdoor meat supply in hard times. How did they survive, these wasteland cattle? It was these cattle which had created the wasteland. Hayduke and Smith dallied several times to get out the old pliers and cut fence. “You can’t never go wrong cuttin’ fence,” Smith would say. “Especially sheep fence.” (Clunk!) “But cow fence too. Any fence.” “Who invented barbed wire anyhow?” Hayduke asked. (Plunk!) “It was a man named J. F. Glidden done it; took out his patent back in 1874.” An immediate success, that barbwire. Now the antelope die by the thousands, the bighorn sheep perish by the hundreds every winter from Alberta down to Arizona, because fencing cuts off their escape from blizzard and drought. And coyotes too, and golden eagles, and peasant soldiers on the coils of concertina wire, victims of the same fat evil the wide world over, hang dead on the barbed and tetanous steel. “You can’t never go wrong cuttin’ fence,” repeated Smith, warming to his task. (Pling!) “Always cut fence. That’s the law west of the hundredth meridian. East of that don’t matter none. Back there it’s all lost anyhow. But west, cut fence.” (Plang!)

hobble into the ER and have modern medicine deal with it. In After, there were no insurance plans. She leaned against a tree, its rough bark rubbing her spine as she sneaked a look down the forested slope. The Blue Ridge Mountains were sheathed in October’s mellow gold, but the leaves were steadily raining down in the breeze as the forest braced for winter’s sleep. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them. Their footfalls were heavy in the crisp leaves, as if the Zapheads had no awareness of the noise they were making. Stephen was higher up the ridge, making better time than she was, but the boy had stopped to wait for her. Little dude better start listening if he wants to make it out of this alive. But she could understand his hesitation.

feet. The wild dog that had bitten her could have inflicted any number of infections, but it wasn’t like she could hobble into the ER and have modern medicine deal with it. In After, there were no insurance plans. She leaned against a tree, its rough bark rubbing her spine as she sneaked a look down the forested slope. The Blue Ridge Mountains were sheathed in October’s mellow gold,

Whereas the studies that preceded it focused on poor rural whites, who may or may not have been of mixed racial descent, Mongrel Virginians concerned itself with a small mixed-population group in the Blue Ridge Mountain foothills of western Virginia that Estabrook dubbed the Win (White-Indian-Negro) tribe.

have inflicted any number of infections, but it wasn’t like she could hobble into the ER and have modern medicine deal with it. In After, there were no insurance plans. She leaned against a tree, its rough bark rubbing her spine as she sneaked a look down the forested slope. The Blue Ridge Mountains were

Between the sky and the egg-shaped, egg-smooth granite boulder that floats out in the middle of the meadow’s widest field, everything has its own green: cattails, willow leaves, the flip side of an aspen leaf, the gray-green sage, the yellow-green native pasture, the loden timber, all circling around, with that boulder at the center, as if the meadow were a green ear held up to listen to the sky’s blue, and there is an axis drawn between the boulder and the sun. Elsewhere on the mountain, most of the green stays locked in pines, the prairie is scorched yellow. But Lyle’s meadow is a hemorrhage of green, and a green clockwork of waterways and grasses, held up to the sky in its ring of ridges, held up for the sky to listen, too. The granite boulder is only there to hold it down.

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If someone could please point me toward my… well, I’ve misplaced someone important and I’m a little tired of following them all over this stupid mountain.” He raised one eyebrow and ran his gaze over the utterly silent diner.

No, it was not language; it was what there was before language. Before things were written down. Language in the time when men and animals did talk to one another, when a man could sit down with an ape and the two converse; when a tiger and a man could share the same tree, and each understood the other; when men ran with wolves, not from or after them. And he was hearing it in the Blue Ridge Mountains under a sweet gum tree. And if they could talk to animals, and the animals could talk to them, what didn’t they know about human beings? Or the earth itself, for that matter.

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【V信83113305】：Virginia Tech, officially known as Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, is a renowned public research university located in Blacksburg, Virginia. Established in 1872, it is recognized for its strong programs in engineering, agriculture, and the sciences. The university fosters a vibrant campus culture, with over 34,000 students and a commitment to hands-on learning through initiatives like the "Ut Prosim" (That I May Serve) motto. Virginia Tech is also celebrated for its spirited Hokie community, competitive athletics, and cutting-edge research in fields such as cybersecurity and sustainable energy. Despite the tragic 2007 shooting, the university has demonstrated resilience, unity, and a dedication to improving campus safety. Its picturesque setting in the Blue Ridge Mountains further enhances its appeal as a top-tier institution.，1:1原版Virginia Tech弗吉尼亚理工毕业证+Virginia Tech成绩单, VT弗吉尼亚理工毕业证制作代办流程, Virginia Tech弗吉尼亚理工电子版毕业证与美国Virginia Tech学位证书纸质版价格, 美国买文凭办理弗吉尼亚理工毕业证成绩单, 专业办理弗吉尼亚理工成绩单高质学位证书服务, VT弗吉尼亚理工原版购买, 办理Virginia Tech学历与学位证书投资未来的途径

【V信83113305】：Clemson University, located in South Carolina, is a renowned public research institution known for its strong academic programs and vibrant campus life. Founded in 1889, the university offers over 80 undergraduate majors and 110 graduate programs across fields like engineering, business, agriculture, and health sciences. Clemson is particularly celebrated for its engineering and automotive research, supported by partnerships with industry leaders such as BMW and Michelin. The university’s commitment to hands-on learning is reflected in its state-of-the-art facilities, including the Watt Family Innovation Center. With a spirited athletic tradition, Clemson’s Tigers compete in the NCAA Division I Atlantic Coast Conference, fostering a strong sense of community. The picturesque campus, nestled near the Blue Ridge Mountains, provides a dynamic environment for students to thrive academically and socially. Clemson’s blend of innovation, tradition, and Southern charm makes it a standout choice for higher education.，想要真实感受Clemson克莱姆森大学版毕业证图片的品质点击查看详解, 购买克莱姆森大学毕业证办理留学文凭学历认证, 如何获取克莱姆森大学-Clemson-毕业证本科学位证书, 购买Clemson毕业证, 办理美国大学毕业证书, 定制克莱姆森大学成绩单, 办克莱姆森大学毕业证Clemson-university

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【V信83113305】：The University of North Carolina at Asheville (UNC Asheville) is a public liberal arts university located in the vibrant city of Asheville, North Carolina. Known for its strong emphasis on undergraduate education, the university offers a personalized learning experience with small class sizes and a student-to-faculty ratio of 13:1. UNC Asheville is the only designated liberal arts institution in the UNC System, focusing on critical thinking, creativity, and interdisciplinary studies. The campus blends natural beauty with modern facilities, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, providing students with opportunities for outdoor activities and cultural exploration. Popular programs include Environmental Studies, Health and Wellness Promotion, and Creative Writing. The university also fosters a strong sense of community through engaged learning, research opportunities, and partnerships with local organizations. With a commitment to sustainability and social responsibility, UNC Asheville prepares students to become thoughtful leaders in a diverse and changing world. Its inclusive environment and dedication to academic excellence make it a unique choice for students seeking a transformative education.，原版复刻美国北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校毕业证办理成绩单修改, 办理北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校学历认证回国人员证明, 学历证书!TUONCAA学历证书北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校学历证书TUONCAA假文凭, 一比一原版北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校毕业证购买, TUONCAA硕士毕业证, 留学生买毕业证The University of North Carolina at Asheville毕业证文凭成绩单办理, 北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校毕业证定制, 北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校留学本科毕业证, 办美国The University of North Carolina at Asheville北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校文凭学历证书

【V信83113305】：North Greenville University (NGU), located in Tigerville, South Carolina, is a private Christian university known for its commitment to integrating faith and learning. Founded in 1891, NGU offers a wide range of undergraduate, graduate, and online programs across disciplines like business, education, and theology. The university emphasizes a Christ-centered education, fostering spiritual growth alongside academic excellence. With a vibrant campus life, students engage in worship, mission trips, and community service, reflecting NGU’s motto, "Christ Makes the Difference." The Crusaders, NGU’s athletic teams, compete in NCAA Division II, adding to the school’s spirited atmosphere. Small class sizes ensure personalized attention, while modern facilities support both learning and student life. NGU’s scenic campus, nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, provides a serene environment for holistic development. Through its dedication to faith, knowledge, and service, NGU prepares graduates to lead with integrity and purpose.，北格林威尔大学留学成绩单毕业证, 办理NGU北格林威尔大学毕业证文凭, 美国NGU毕业证仪式感|购买北格林威尔大学学位证, 购买北格林威尔大学毕业证, 极速办NGU北格林威尔大学毕业证NGU文凭学历制作, 一比一原版北格林威尔大学毕业证-NGU毕业证书-如何办理, NGU北格林威尔大学颁发典礼学术荣誉颁奖感受博士生的光荣时刻

【V信83113305】：The University of North Georgia (UNG) is a prominent public university located in Dahlonega, Georgia, known for its strong academic programs and military tradition. As one of only six senior military colleges in the United States, UNG offers a unique blend of rigorous academics and leadership training through its Corps of Cadets. The university provides over 100 programs across five campuses, including bachelor’s and master’s degrees in fields like business, education, and health sciences. UNG is also recognized for its affordability and commitment to student success, with a vibrant campus life featuring clubs, athletics, and community engagement. Its scenic location in the Blue Ridge Mountains adds to its appeal, offering outdoor recreational opportunities. With a focus on leadership, service, and academic excellence, UNG prepares students for meaningful careers and civic responsibility.，北佐治亚大学文凭-, 北佐治亚大学成绩单购买, 网上制作北佐治亚大学毕业证-UONG毕业证书-留信学历认证, University of North Georgia北佐治亚大学-多少钱, UONG留学本科毕业证, UONG毕业证定制, 仿制北佐治亚大学毕业证-UONG毕业证书-快速办理

【V信83113305】：Clemson University, located in South Carolina, is a renowned public research institution known for its strong academic programs and vibrant campus life. Founded in 1889, the university offers over 80 undergraduate and 120 graduate degree programs, with notable strengths in engineering, agriculture, and business. Clemson is classified as an R1 research university, reflecting its high level of research activity and innovation. The campus spans 1,400 acres, featuring state-of-the-art facilities and a picturesque setting near the Blue Ridge Mountains. Athletics play a significant role in campus culture, with the Clemson Tigers competing in the NCAA Division I Atlantic Coast Conference. The university’s commitment to community engagement and sustainability further enhances its reputation. With a blend of academic excellence, spirited traditions, and a tight-knit community, Clemson University continues to attract students from across the globe.，办理Clemson毕业证, 正版克莱姆森大学学历证书学位证书成绩单, 高质Clemson克莱姆森大学成绩单办理安全可靠的文凭服务, 办理真实Clemson毕业证成绩单留信网认证, 办克莱姆森大学成绩单, 美国毕业证认证, 挂科办理克莱姆森大学毕业证本科学位证书, Clemson毕业证认证

【V信83113305】：East Tennessee State University (ETSU), located in Johnson City, Tennessee, is a public university renowned for its strong academic programs and vibrant campus life. Established in 1911, ETSU offers over 100 undergraduate and graduate degrees, with notable strengths in health sciences, particularly its Quillen College of Medicine and College of Public Health. The university is also recognized for its research initiatives, community engagement, and commitment to regional development. ETSU’s picturesque campus blends modern facilities with Appalachian heritage, fostering a diverse and inclusive environment. Students enjoy a range of extracurricular activities, including NCAA Division I athletics, cultural events, and outdoor recreation in the nearby Blue Ridge Mountains. With a focus on student success and innovation, ETSU continues to be a cornerstone of higher education in the southeastern United States.，东田纳西州立大学留学成绩单毕业证, East Tennessee State University毕业证成绩单专业服务学历认证, 购买东田纳西州立大学毕业证, ETSU本科毕业证, ETSU毕业证购买, 毕业证文凭-东田纳西州立大学毕业证, ETSU文凭购买

【V信83113305】：Clemson University, located in South Carolina, is a renowned public research institution known for its strong academic programs and vibrant campus life. Founded in 1889, the university offers over 80 undergraduate and 110 graduate degree programs across fields like engineering, business, agriculture, and health sciences. Clemson is particularly celebrated for its cutting-edge research initiatives, often collaborating with industry leaders and government agencies. The university’s athletic teams, the Tigers, compete in the NCAA Division I and enjoy a passionate fan base. With a picturesque campus nestled near the Blue Ridge Mountains, Clemson provides a blend of rigorous academics and a tight-knit community. Its commitment to innovation, service, and student success makes it a standout choice for learners nationwide.，克莱姆森大学毕业证成绩单在哪里能办理, 极速办克莱姆森大学毕业证Clemson University文凭学历制作, 克莱姆森大学文凭-Clemson University, 1:1原版Clemson University克莱姆森大学毕业证+Clemson University成绩单, 哪里买Clemson克莱姆森大学毕业证|Clemson成绩单, 办克莱姆森大学文凭学位证书成绩单GPA修改, 克莱姆森大学毕业证制作, 定做克莱姆森大学毕业证-Clemson毕业证书-毕业证, 原版定制克莱姆森大学毕业证-Clemson毕业证书-一比一制作

【V信83113305】：Ferrum College, nestled in the scenic Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, is a small liberal arts institution known for its close-knit community and commitment to experiential learning. Founded in 1913, the college emphasizes hands-on education through programs like its renowned "Iron Blade" student newspaper and the "Work Program," which integrates practical work experience with academics. Ferrum offers diverse majors, including environmental science and criminal justice, while fostering leadership and service through initiatives like the "Bonner Scholars Program." With a student-to-faculty ratio of 12:1, personalized mentorship is a hallmark. The campus’s natural beauty, including a 72-acre lake, enhances outdoor learning and recreation. Ferrum’s mission—"Not Self, But Others"—reflects its dedication to shaping engaged, ethical graduates ready to contribute meaningfully to society.，费鲁姆学院-多少钱, 费鲁姆学院学位证毕业证, Ferrum College文凭制作流程确保学历真实性, 办理美国Ferrum College本科学历, 如何办理Ferrum College费鲁姆学院学历学位证, 极速办FC费鲁姆学院毕业证FC文凭学历制作, 定制FC毕业证

【V信83113305】：Western Carolina University (WCU), located in Cullowhee, North Carolina, is a public university renowned for its strong academic programs and scenic mountain setting. Established in 1889, WCU is part of the University of North Carolina system and offers over 120 undergraduate and graduate degrees. The university is particularly recognized for its programs in education, business, health sciences, and the arts. With a commitment to hands-on learning, WCU emphasizes research, internships, and community engagement. The campus features state-of-the-art facilities, including the Health and Human Sciences Building and the Fine and Performing Arts Center. Surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains, WCU provides a vibrant outdoor lifestyle, attracting students who enjoy hiking, biking, and exploring nature. Known for its inclusive and supportive environment, WCU fosters student success through small class sizes and personalized attention.，WCU毕业证购买, WCUdiploma安全可靠购买WCU毕业证, 办理大学毕业证-西卡罗莱纳大学, WCU西卡罗莱纳大学挂科了怎么办？, 美国买文凭办理西卡罗莱纳大学毕业证成绩单, 美国WCU毕业证仪式感|购买西卡罗莱纳大学学位证, Western Carolina University文凭毕业证丢失怎么购买, 哪里买WCU西卡罗莱纳大学毕业证|WCU成绩单

【V信83113305】：Virginia Tech, officially known as Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, is a renowned public research university located in Blacksburg, Virginia. Founded in 1872, it is celebrated for its strong programs in engineering, agriculture, and the sciences. The university fosters a vibrant campus culture, with over 37,000 students and a commitment to hands-on learning through initiatives like the "Ut Prosim" motto, meaning "That I May Serve." Virginia Tech is also known for its spirited Hokie community, competitive athletics, and cutting-edge research facilities, such as the Virginia Tech Transportation Institute. The picturesque campus, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, offers a blend of academic rigor and outdoor adventure. With a focus on innovation and service, Virginia Tech continues to shape leaders who address global challenges.，学历证书!学历证书弗吉尼亚理工学历证书假文凭, 办美国弗吉尼亚理工文凭学历证书, 购买弗吉尼亚理工毕业证, 办理美国VT本科学历, 办理美国大学毕业证书, 办理Virginia Tech弗吉尼亚理工毕业证文凭, 美国文凭办理, 制作文凭弗吉尼亚理工毕业证-VT毕业证书-毕业证

【V信83113305】：Clemson University, located in South Carolina, is a renowned public research institution known for its strong academic programs and vibrant campus life. Founded in 1889, the university is named after Thomas Green Clemson, who donated the land for its establishment. Clemson offers over 80 undergraduate and 110 graduate programs, with notable strengths in engineering, agriculture, and business. The university is a leader in research, particularly in fields like automotive engineering and environmental science, often collaborating with industry partners. Athletics play a significant role at Clemson, with the Tigers competing in the NCAA Division I Atlantic Coast Conference. The football team, in particular, has achieved national prominence, winning multiple championships. Beyond academics and sports, Clemson fosters a close-knit community with traditions like the "Tiger Paw" and "Howard’s Rock," creating a spirited and inclusive environment. Its picturesque campus, nestled near the Blue Ridge Mountains, adds to the appeal, making it a top choice for students seeking excellence and camaraderie.，Clemsondiploma安全可靠购买Clemson毕业证, 挂科办理克莱姆森大学学历学位证, 高质克莱姆森大学成绩单办理安全可靠的文凭服务, 挂科办理克莱姆森大学毕业证本科学位证书, Offer(Clemson成绩单)Clemson克莱姆森大学如何办理?, 克莱姆森大学原版购买, 美国克莱姆森大学毕业证成绩单在线制作办理, 克莱姆森大学学位证书快速办理, 办克莱姆森大学毕业证Clemson University-university

【V信83113305】：Roanoke College, located in Salem, Virginia, is a private liberal arts college founded in 1842. Known for its strong academic programs and close-knit community, the college offers over 35 majors and emphasizes experiential learning. With a student-to-faculty ratio of 11:1, Roanoke fosters personalized education and mentorship. The campus features historic buildings alongside modern facilities, blending tradition with innovation. Students engage in research, internships, and study abroad opportunities, preparing them for diverse careers. The college’s vibrant campus life includes over 100 clubs, Division III athletics, and a commitment to service. Roanoke’s scenic location in the Blue Ridge Mountains provides a picturesque setting for academic and personal growth. Its mission centers on developing critical thinkers and ethical leaders for a global society.，出售RC证书-哪里能购买RC毕业证, 罗诺克学院原版购买, 美国罗诺克学院毕业证成绩单在线制作办理, 办理Roanoke College大学毕业证-罗诺克学院, 专业办理RC罗诺克学院成绩单高质学位证书服务, Roanoke College毕业证文凭-罗诺克学院毕业证, 如何获取罗诺克学院--毕业证本科学位证书, 罗诺克学院学位定制, 网上制作罗诺克学院毕业证-RC毕业证书-留信学历认证

【V信83113305】：The University of North Carolina at Asheville (UNC Asheville) is a public liberal arts university located in the vibrant city of Asheville, North Carolina. Known for its small class sizes and personalized education, UNC Asheville emphasizes critical thinking, creativity, and community engagement. The university offers a range of undergraduate programs, with popular majors including Environmental Studies, Psychology, and Health and Wellness. Its picturesque campus, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, provides a stunning backdrop for student life. UNC Asheville is also recognized for its commitment to sustainability and social justice, fostering an inclusive environment. With a strong focus on undergraduate research and experiential learning, students gain hands-on experience through internships and community projects. The university’s proximity to downtown Asheville offers cultural and recreational opportunities, enriching the college experience. UNC Asheville’s dedication to academic excellence and civic responsibility makes it a unique institution in the UNC system.，高仿原版北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校毕业证-TUONCAA毕业证书-外壳-offer制作, 美国本科毕业证, 正版-美国The University of North Carolina at Asheville毕业证文凭学历证书, 办理The University of North Carolina at Asheville学历与学位证书投资未来的途径, 北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校学位定制, The University of North Carolina at AshevillediplomaThe University of North Carolina at Asheville北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校挂科处理解决方案, 北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校成绩单购买, 办理北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校成绩单高质量保密的个性化服务, 修改北卡罗莱纳大学阿什维尔分校成绩单电子版gpa让学历更出色

【V信83113305】：The University of North Georgia (UNG) is a prominent public university located in Dahlonega, Georgia, known for its strong academic programs and leadership development. As one of only six senior military colleges in the U.S., UNG offers a unique blend of civilian and military education, fostering discipline and excellence. The university provides over 100 programs across its five campuses, including renowned degrees in cybersecurity, nursing, and business. With a commitment to hands-on learning, UNG emphasizes research, community engagement, and global perspectives. Its picturesque Dahlonega campus, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, offers a vibrant student life with clubs, athletics, and cultural events. UNG’s ROTC program is highly respected, producing leaders for both civilian and military careers. Affordable and diverse, UNG continues to shape future-ready graduates.，购买北佐治亚大学文凭, 办北佐治亚大学毕业证成绩单, 购买UONG毕业证, 办理北佐治亚大学毕业证, UONG毕业证认证, 如何获取北佐治亚大学-University of North Georgia-毕业证本科学位证书, 北佐治亚大学原版购买

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【V信83113305】：Western Carolina University (WCU), located in Cullowhee, North Carolina, is a public university renowned for its strong academic programs and scenic mountain setting. Established in 1889, WCU is part of the University of North Carolina system and offers over 120 undergraduate and graduate degrees. The university is particularly recognized for its programs in education, business, health sciences, and the arts. With a commitment to hands-on learning, WCU emphasizes research, internships, and community engagement. The campus features state-of-the-art facilities, including the Health and Human Sciences Building and the Fine and Performing Arts Center. Surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains, WCU provides a vibrant outdoor lifestyle, attracting students who enjoy hiking, biking, and exploring nature. Known for its inclusive and supportive environment, WCU fosters student success through small class sizes and personalized attention. Its Catamount spirit and athletic teams further enrich campus life.，美国毕业证办理, 办理WCU毕业证, 专业办理Western Carolina University西卡罗莱纳大学成绩单高质学位证书服务, 办理西卡罗莱纳大学文凭, 一流西卡罗莱纳大学学历精仿高质, 西卡罗莱纳大学学位证毕业证, 西卡罗莱纳大学-Western Carolina University大学毕业证成绩单, 西卡罗莱纳大学成绩单办理

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【V信83113305】：North Greenville University (NGU) is a private Christian university located in Tigerville, South Carolina, United States. Founded in 1892, NGU is affiliated with the South Carolina Baptist Convention and emphasizes a faith-based education integrated with academic excellence. The university offers a wide range of undergraduate, graduate, and online programs across disciplines such as business, education, ministry, and the arts. Known for its vibrant campus life, NGU fosters a close-knit community with opportunities for spiritual growth, service, and leadership development. The institution is committed to preparing students for meaningful careers and lives of purpose, guided by Christian values. With modern facilities, dedicated faculty, and a scenic campus nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, NGU provides a transformative educational experience rooted in faith and scholarship.，办北格林威尔大学毕业证-university, 毕业证文凭-北格林威尔大学毕业证, North Greenville Universitydiploma北格林威尔大学挂科处理解决方案, 专业办理北格林威尔大学成绩单高质学位证书服务, North Greenville University文凭制作服务您学历的展现, 北格林威尔大学毕业证认证, 购买NGU毕业证