He Who Does Not See Things In

Man Has To Suffer. When He Has No Real Afflictions, He Invents Some.

I Know That When The World Surrenders, Pallid, To Repose, The Murmur Of A Tranquil Stream Through The Deep Silence Flows.

Perhaps The Enemies Of Liberty Are Such Only Because They Judge It By Its Loud Voice.

Books Console Us, Calm Us, Prepare Us, Enrich Us And Redeem Us.

Like Bones To The Human Body, The Axle To The Wheel, The Wing To The Bird, And The Air To The Wing, So Is Liberty The Essence Of Life. Whatever Is Done Without It Is Imperfect.