Disaffection Stalks Around Us.

Two Messengers Covered With Dust Come To Bid Me Fly, But I Wait For Him.

I Would Rather Fight With My Hands Than My Tongue.

It Is Done... The Precious Portrait Placed In The Hands Of The Gentlemen For Safe Keeping.

Our Private Property Must Be Sacrificed.

When I Shall Again Write To You, Or Where I Shall Be Tomorrow, I Cannot Tell.