I Shall Laugh My Bitter Laugh.

The Lord Grant We May All Be Tillers Of The Soil.

The Current Generation Now Sees Everything Clearly, It Marvels At The Errors, It Laughs At The Folly Of Its Ancestors, Not Seeing That This Chronicle Is All Overscored By Divine Fire, That Every Letter Of It Cries Out, That From Everywhere The Piercing Finger Is Pointed At It, At This Current Generation; But The Current Generation Laughs And Presumptuously, Proudly Begins A Series Of New Errors, At Which Their Descendants Will Also Laugh Afterwards.

Everything Resembles The Truth, Everything Can Happen To A Man.

But Wise Is The Man Who Disdains No Character, But With Searching Glance Explores Him To The Root And Cause Of All.

In The End Dreams Became His Life, And His Whole Life Thereafter Took A Strange Turn: One Might Say He Slept While Waking And Watched While Asleep.