My daughter would never tread on someone else's freedoms. But we don't want ours tread on, either.

Yippee ki yay, motherfucker!

We feel he could do either.

We want to tread lightly on the planet,

Parting they seemed to tread upon the air,/ Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart / Only to meet again more close.

We are all making a crown for Jesus out of these daily lives of ours, either a crown of golden, divine love, studded with gems of sacrifice and adoration, or a thorny crown, filled with the cruel briars of unbelief, or selfishness, and sin . . .