"When the chopper would praise a pine, he will commonly tell you that the one he cut was so big that a yoke of oxen stood on its stump; as if that were what the pine had grown for, to become the footstool of oxen."

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It hit the damn papers that I was being chased through the woods with dogs and choppers. I mean, who the hell are we after here, John Dillinger? For Chrissakes, I'm just a lowly guitar player.

— Richard Betts