For Every Language That Becomes Extinct, An

Beyond Myself, Somewhere, I Wait For My Arrival.

Grace Is Gratuitous; It Is A Gift.

A Flower Without A Stem, Is Beauty Waiting To Die. A Heart Without Love, Is A Tear Waiting To Cry.

Whatever Is Not Stone Is Light

There Is Nothing Sacred Or Untouchable Except The Freedom To Think. Without Criticism, That Is To Say, Without Rigor And Experimentation, There Is No Science, Without Criticism There Is No Art Or Literature. I Would Also Say That Without Criticism There Is No Healthy Society.